


A is A: Dragon's End

by Flyboy254



Series: A Is A [16]
Category: Battlefield (Video Games), Overwatch (Video Game), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-27 09:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyboy254/pseuds/Flyboy254
Summary: A PAC movement on the Persian Gulf sends SG-1 and MV-6 with MV-4 to face a professional military with nothing to lose and questions to answer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 

PAC General Yuri Vladomirovic strode the corridors of the PAC headquarters complex with two of his adjutants following respectfully behind him. The staff officers and their subordinates before them cleared the way, standing at attention for the man they all knew but had never believed they would see. Rumors and scuttlebutt were one thing, but to see him, the Hero of Berlin and Savior of Cerbère? The Command Committee had a mission so important it couldn’t be left to anyone else?

 

Vladomirovic stopped before the door to the committee’s chambers, holding up his left arm for the scanner beside the door to read his RFID chip in his left arm. The two guards at the door were ceremonial at this point, the EU had nothing to offer any martyrs who might try to kill the committee or informants who could spirit out what would do little good. The doors clicked open, and the guards parts to let the general through.

 

Vladomirovic hadn’t been inside the chambers for some time, not since he was tasked with breaking the defenses at Cerbère. He had thought that his placement on garrison in the remaining habitable strip of Europe along the Mediterranean had been well-earned, but the stories turned out to be true; the Europeans had managed to turn back their efforts in Africa. As the members of the committee stopped their conversations to focus on him he accepted that the PAC command could not gain their jewel of the Suez after all.

 

“Gen. Yuri Vladomirovic reporting as commanded,” he said, standing to in front of the leadership of his nation. Well, the group leading his nation. “My apologies, the titan transporting me had a core overload and needed to land at the port in Baikonur.”

 

“It is acceptable,” one of the committee members said. Vladomirovic gave a mental sigh, there was no reason for any of them to hide their faces when all the population of the PAC knew who they were anyway. This was just to scare their underlings, to make sure they understood the difference between success and failure. It insulted the general. “Gen. Vladomirovic, are you familiar with the reports that came to the committee from Shuhia Taiba?”

“ _Of course I am,_ ” Vladomirovic barely held back the thought. “Only in vagaries. Our assault, from what I understand, did not achieve the intended objective.”

 

The committee looked to each other, shadows glancing at shadows for confirmation. A screen lit up behind the center of the committee’s desk and showed footage of the PAC operation at Shuhia Taiba. It wasn’t very different from what he’d come to expect, as a general of such noted ability Vladomirovic had access to the most highly classified data packets sent through the PAC command.

 

Only he hadn’t seen this one before.

 

It showed the camera feed from a member of the PAC commando detachment at Shuhia Taiba. Sirens blared around the commando ran for a firing position.

 

“ _What’s going on,_ ” a soldier shouted. “ _What do we have on the Western bastards?_ ”

 

“ _Three transports coming in over the horizon, they’re trying to strike at headquarters_.” The commando filming everything took a position behind a pre-fab barricade, the camera showing him check his rifle’s magazine and sighting it before setting into position. Tracers from the AA positions streaked through the air, bursting in the air around the three transports as they came into view. The transports were flying low, lower that Vladomirovic was used to seeing such transports fly. The EU pilots only did so to avoid detective by supersonic fighters, only when they had vital personnel or cargo aboard.

 

The affair all seemed routine. One of the transports was shot down, the two others landed nearby to cover the crash site and offload, the EU troopers offloaded and-

 

The fireball. The massive fireball. Out of nowhere, one of the EU troopers managed to fire a blast of flame from his position. The PAC soldiers screamed out, the blast caught several of them in it and set them ablaze. As Vladomirovic tried to wrap his head around the EU using some kind of man-portable thermal weapon, suddenly the commando started to wobble unsteadily. Looking down, the camera showed that the ground had suddenly been covered in ice. Before Vladomirovic could wrap his head around how that even happened, suddenly swords started raining down around the position.

 

“This is only the first video,” a female member of the committee stated. “Since this there have been multiple incidents involving weapons we have never encountered before. This is the reason for our cease-fire with the EU general, and we are not pleased that it has continued.”

 

Vladomirovic kept watching as the footage continued, showing a woman in a maid outfit destroying the PAC position as she dug up from and down into the earth below by spinning her body. “ _No, it’s not possible…some kind of psychological warfare? This can’t be what denied us in the Middle East!_ ”

 

“As you can imagine general, this threat must be met head-on.” The footage cut out, leaving the room once more bathed in shadows. “This operation must determine this new threat from the Europeans and, if possible, put a stop to it.”

 

Vladomirovic did his utmost to try and go back to being a professional after what he just witnessed. “Where am I being sent?”

 

“Kuwait.” The image changed to a coastal road in the Kuwaiti desert. “The EU is attempting to seize control of operations area Delta-4. We have three titans in support of our assault, and II Command is waiting for your transfer.”

 

Vladomirovic felt some of the tension drain from his soul. II Command were a crack unit, they wouldn’t leave him to flounder in the sands. “I accept this mission and will leave immediately.”

 

“Tomorrow will suffice,” an aged, sly voice said from the committee with a chuckle. “For now general, rest. Prepare yourself for what you’ll be facing. You’re dismissed for now, general.”

 

Vladomirovic snapped to attention. “By your leave, ladies and gentlemen.” With a crisp about-face, the general left the shadowy chambers back to the soft white light of the corridor.

 

“What do you think sir,” Maj. Chan Jingfei said, as she and Command Sergeant Choi Ji-yong fell in behind Vladomirovic. “Is it what you thought?”

 

“Worse,” Vladomirovic said, leading the way to the nearest empty room. The three quickly went to checking every nook and cranny, making sure that there were no listening devices from the Committee on State Security inside. Feeling things safe enough to speak freely, Vladomirovic sat in the small folding chair that someone had forgotten to clear out. “The cease-fire was a new system, but it wasn’t a widely deployed one. Worse, it’s man-portable.”

 

Choi scoffed. “Then where is it? The Iranians would have made every effort to secure an example, so where are they?”

 

Vladomirovic exhaled as he tried to think of the best way to explain it, and decided to just go for the point. “It’s four human beings.” The two staffers looked to each other and back to the general. “It is unbelievable.”

 

“An English writer once said that when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” The three stood up at the sight of Marshal Arkadi Petrov walking in, tightly shutting the door behind him. “Of course, that was just some silly murder mystery story it was referencing. Sit, all of you. I need to stand at any rate. Doctors say I need to do it more before my legs pool with blood.”

 

Vladomirovic smiled. Marshal Petrov always hated the doctors orders to him about his health. He thought he was still a junior officer throwing down cheap vodka and running four miles a day even at sixty-five. Not that Vladomirovic was any better, but at least he knew and accepted he had tighter limits now. “Comrade Petrov. Have you chosen to grace us with your wise council?”

 

“Council, yes. Wise? That remains to be seen, Yuri Ivanovich.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he circled the trio. “Now, let us speak of Dragon’s End.”

 

* * *

 

Daniel tapped at his computer monitor with his pencil, scrolling through the page on something called the “Bennington Triangle”. According to the page, there had been at least five mysterious disappearances in the area from 1945 to 1950. Another window had an article about a man from a place called “Taured” that he claimed at Tokyo’s customs counter was where Andorra had been on the map and vanished the next morning. Of course, the problem was that both sites also had the kind of suggestions about race that left Daniel wondering just where his life was going.

 

“Whatca’ doin’?”

 

Daniel jumped and turned to see Tracer leaning over his shoulder staring at the same page. “Oooh, mysterious disappearances. So, there might actually be some proof then?”

 

“Well maybe, I mean the majority of these websites aren’t exactly what you’d call ‘peer reviewed’.” Rubbing at his eyes, Daniel turned in his chair to face the pilot. “So, what about Winston? Any progress from him on getting his gear mass produced?”

 

Tracer shook her head. “Winston’s always been more on the theoretical side of the sciences, personally I think he doesn’t like the idea of making his inventions less complicated.” Giving a shrug, Tracer jumped about the office. “So were you always fascinated by ancient Egypt then?”

 

Daniel gathered his notes together before him. “Yeah, my parents were archaeologists themselves. Anthropology, archaeology, just studying man’s origins in general was always part of my life. Course I never expected to ever come across living examples of the things I’ve studied my whole life.”

 

“At least it means you’ll always have something new to discover.” Jumping over to the notes, Tracer flipped through to Daniel’s annoyance. “So if there are natural wormholes, what’s that mean for us?”

 

“Well it means that we might be able to convince Thor that the Asgard can calm down,” Daniel said, taking his notes back and reading over them again. “If we can show them that we’ve had incidents occur here already in our past then we might be able to convince them that the damage to the fabric of reality is probably negligible.”

 

Sirens started going off in the base, and the two rushed to the gate room to see the security teams rushing in with rifles ready. Harriman was already identifying the signal from the incoming traveler. “EU IDC sir.”

 

Gen. Hammond gave a nod. “Security teams stand down.”

 

As the order went out a trio of men in gray uniforms strode into the room, one of them smiling as he looked over the armed men before him. With a French accent he laughed. “Usually I expect this kind of welcome from my ex-wife’s family.”

 

The visitors were quickly brought up to the briefing room, Pharah and Campbell quickly retrieved from their duties to sit in on the briefing. “Welcome to the SGC Lt. Col. Guiles. I presume you’re here with some news from the front?”

 

“ _Oui_ general,” Guiles said, laying out a map across the table. “Our intelligence believes that the PAC are readying to break the cease-fire, they’ve moved three titans to the Persian Gulf and are moving them towards Kuwait. They’re also reinforcing with one of their elite units, II Command. We don’t know who’s in command or what their objective is, but we believe that it’s most likely the seizure of this oil refinery and extraction facility.”

 

O’Neill raised a hand. “Maybe I misheard the last time we were there, but I thought you guys were using fusion power and didn’t need oil.”

 

Guiles nodded as his aide distributed intel packets about the table. “It’s true, our military forces no longer require fossil fuels for our vehicles or generators. That said, we still require petrochemicals for food production, medical products, and other civilian applications to sustain our population.” As he listened, O’Neill opened the packet on II Command. “We’re moving two titans in for support, the facility has already been prepared with anti-titan missile batteries as well as two reinforced regiments for defense of the facility.”

 

Campbell nodded. “The platoon’s ready sir, we’ll be geared up in thirty and back through the gate.”

 

Guiles nodded. “General, we also request the aid of two MVTF teams. Given the nature of this threat we feel that there are better odds of success with the additional assistance.”

 

O’Neill raised a hand. “Last I checked sir, SG-1 doesn’t have any missions until next month.”

 

“I’d like to take MV-6 as well.” Pharah sat up as all eyes focused on her. “We’ve been unable to function with the MVTF even with our technological abilities. It’s more than time we threw our hats into the ring. Your permission sir?”

 

Hammond nodded. “Permission granted. Major, all teams will be ready by 0800 tomorrow morning.”

 

Guiles smiled as his aides gathered the map. “With your permission general, I’d like to speak with Capt. Campbell privately.”

 

Gen. Hammond nodded and rose from the table. “Everyone, dismissed.”

 

As the teams filtered out, Guiles waited until he was sure the room was empty to speak with Campbell. “Your platoon is well, captain?”

 

“Perfectly sir,” Campbell said. He’d started to rise out of respect, but Guiles had motioned him to stay seated. “We’ve been waiting to be deployed with another team, though from what’s been happening we arrived just after some major operations occurred.”

 

“Well you’ll see your major operation now. Region command has determined that if Highway Tampa falls we’ll have lost our purpose for securing the Persian Gulf.”

 

Campbell nodded. “Well sir, I’m safe in saying we can’t have that happen. We’re sure it’s a straight assault on Tampa then?”

 

“No intelligence to indicate otherwise,” Guiles replied. “No pressure captain, just remember that all of our civilian population is depending on this.”

 

“Oh, no pressure at all sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The teams came through the gate to the EU staging point at Shuhia Taiba, and after a short brief were hurried to a massive landing field to the rear. Campbell watched as the teams saw the EU Carrier Craft _Tethys_ moored just above ground level, supply and logistics teams feeding her cavernous hold with materiel to be used in Kuwait.

 

Tracer let out a whistle at the sight. “She looks like a rough one, and are those heavy autocannons underneath?”

 

“Four turrets total,” Becker said, as if her were talking about the weather instead of the most advanced piece of military hardware ever to fly. “Missions like this one they fly with two escort flyers as well, keeps the PAC buzzards from thinking her an easy target.”

 

Gantz laughed. “Nothing can down _Tethys_ , not after the pounding she took over Sidi.”

 

O’Neill groaned. “We get it, she’s a tough old bird, now how about you tell us something we can use to get ready for this?”

 

“Sorry sir.” Campbell reached behind his seat of the cargo truck and pulled up a map on a personal data pad. “The area around Highway Tampa is just desert, nothing truly useful except for the refinery. The PAC titans will move in from the east, over the water under our primary radar systems. Does tell us why they’ve been distracting our naval forces for so long now at least.”

 

“Gen. Vollmer has already moved to the operations area,” Guiles said as the vehicles pulled up to the massive berm butting up to the titan’s cargo bay. “Command’s been impressed with his work alongside the MVTF so far, don’t give them any reason to change their opinions.”

 

“Would never dream of it sir,” Campbell said jovially. The trucks hissed as they stopped, the teams off-loading quickly to see a sergeant waving them over.

 

“First Team?” Campbell nodded. “Well we managed to carve out a small berth for you all.”

 

Campbell nodded as his team filed on, load-bearing packs filled with field gear and equipment for the mission ahead. “Flight time?”

 

“We’re giving it five to six hours,” the sergeant said, staring at Reinhardt as the crusader stomped through the organized chaos of loading the titan. “We uh, we managed to put some provisions in as well on the major’s word.”

 

“How many boxes?”

 

The sergeant looked back to Reinhardt. “One sir.”

 

Campbell shook his head. “It’ll be enough sergeant. Weber, make sure everyone loads up. I’ll talk with the titan’s commander and make sure on that flight time.” Weber nodded, quickly counting the members of Overwatch and SG-1 aboard along with the platoon.

 

Campbell followed the sergeant through the titan, moving from the cargo hold into the narrow corridors of the mighty beast. Crew members hurried about, making final preparations before they lifted into the skies to make for Highway Tampa. It was the typical life aboard a titan; hurried periods to get the massive machine ready to fly before waiting a day or two before they flew off again. Campbell didn’t envy being aboard one of them in combat though. It always struck him that if someone was caught too far into the craft and she was taken out of the sky? The thought of being crushed under a few hundred tons of aluminum and steel didn’t appeal in the least.

 

The sergeant led Campbell to the bridge, where the titan’s commander sat reading over reports from his sections. “Sir, Capt. Campbell requests to speak with you?”

 

The colonel turned and rose from his seat to meet Campbell. “Captain, I understand you’re our liaison with several new allies? Well I hope they’re up to the task, I just received an intelligence bulletin.” The captain turned a small console on his chair to show Campbell what he’d received.

 

Campbell’s eyes narrowed at the new intelligence. “Sir, I’ll need to have this sent to my personal.”

* * *

Reinhardt laughed as he shut the cases holding his armor. “Look at it all, fine German craftsmanship!” His massive fist slammed on the bulkhead, the metal ringing out as the final preparations were made for transport. “Even in the middle of such a catastrophe, only the finest work goes into our creations.”

 

Gatnz pointed at the aging knight with a grin. “He’s got quite the sense of pride, doesn’t he?”

 

Becker shook his head. “He’s got a mouth. He’ll give away our positions before we get fifty meters to the PAC lines.”

 

“As if both of you don’t already,” Cpl. Kavanaugh said, walking over with a cup of coffee in-hand and fiery red hair on full display. “At least this one has the armor to keep him alive long enough to close with their lines.”

 

The two Germans clammed up as their Irish NCO settled onto his cot. “Now get some rest, we’ll need to be ready for tomorrow or we’ll wind up smears on the sand.”

 

“Yeah, that’s gonna go for all of us,” O’Neill said, laying back on his own cot. “Hopefully we’ll just do a few patrols and call it a mission.”

 

Campbell’s footsteps rang out on the metal deck. “Sorry colonel, but you’re a bit premature on thinking that.” O’Neill threw up his hands in frustration. “Everyone gather ‘round, new intelligence just came in.” The eighteen of the 1st Team gathered around with MV-6 and SG-1 to get the details as Campbell reread his information on his personal tablet. “Seems that II Command just got a new leader. Gen. Vladomirovic will personally be commanding this operation.”

 

1st Team to a trooper froze. Looking at their faces, McCree held up a hand. “Care to inform the rest of us who that happens to be?”

 

LCpl. Belenko answered, her Ukranian accent hanging heavy as she spoke. “The PAC’s premier commander. He engineered the capture of Berlin and the PAC assault on Cerbère Landing that drove us from the continent.”

 

“So he’s good,” O’Neill noted. “But what makes him good, think we can get an answer there?”

 

“He never follows conventional wisdom,” Russo said, Ricci nodding in agreement. “Cerbère was supposed to be a land assault, but instead Vladomirovic landed from the sea and nearly cut off our escape. We barely fought our way through the beachhead. By the time we broke through Hell Brigade had practically been decimated.”

 

“Huh, and I thought I’d wind up hating this guy,” O’Neill mused with a false smile.

 

Pharah paced the cots among the team. “Are there any civilians in the area we need to protect?”

 

Weber shook her head. “The contractors have all shut down production and evacuated two days ago. We wouldn’t recommend letting the plant take too much damage however, the facility probably still has residual amounts of oil and byproducts inside that we can’t afford to ignite. Any severe damage to the refinery could set back production too far for our reserves to last.”

 

“We’ll split into four teams,” Campbell said, tapping on the personal. “I’ll take team one and two straight to the south, help secure the crossroads as team three moves to the east and aids the team on the refinery. Team four will aid security for the main base and act as a reserve for when we need them.”

 

Reinhardt laughed. “Perfect! We’ll show these fools what happens when they wrong the Heer and run them down like rats.”

 

The EU troopers all shared the same looks with each other, and It wasn’t hard for O’Neill to notice. So he quickly stepped in. “Okay, well seeing as I’m senior here, I propose we play it like this.”

* * *

Pharah shook herself awake as she remembered where she was. Stretching as she sat up, she saw that no one else was awake yet. Taking the moment, she walked to the back of the cargo bay to the open air.

 

The titan flew under the clouds, a necessity when the teams were in the unsecured cargo hold. Only some of the titan could be pressurized, the cargo hold hadn’t made the cut. Which made it perfect for Pharah to see the Earth below.

 

The titan thrummed, the pulse engines pushing _Tethys_ above the ground by sheer force. Apparently, the discovery of microwave propulsion had been maximized to their best potential and when coupled with the fusion power plants, could sustain flight for months with minimal maintenance. Winston would love to see it when he had the chance.

 

“Careful.” Pharah turned to see one of the female lance corporals walking up behind her taking out an electronic cigarette. “One good gust over the bow and you’re taking the fast way down.”

 

Pharah nodded, staying where she was on the center of the cargo deck. “It’s amazing though. All this work and design, you could feed an entire city with the space inside.”

 

The trooper laughed. “Yeah, we’ve been doing our fair share of that. Egyptian?”

 

Pharah nodded. “And you’re Eastern European, Polish? No, no you’re Ukranian.”

 

The trooper laughed. “You’re the first one to get that right ma’am. Belenko.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Pharah said, shaking Belenko’s hand. “It’s funny, we’re still trying to make aircraft like this in my universe even when we have mech-suits and better fusion plants.”

 

Belenko chuckled as she let out a long plume of sickly-sweet smoke that reeked of fake honey and fruit. “Don’t bad mouth _Tethys_ , she’s been in the war since the start and hasn’t lost a battle yet.”

 

Pharah nodded, taking a second to size up Belenko. She was someone that’d seen heavy combat, not much bulk but rather with defined and toned muscles. There were curves of course, but Belenko’s arms in her undershirt were sharp angles of muscle instead of smooth lines of soft skin. That, and the obvious scars from shrapnel and flesh wounds. Still, Pharah couldn’t help but admire Belenko’s form and short-cut brown hair.

 

“So, which one are you?”

 

Pharah snapped out of her intense study. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Well you’re with MV-6 right?” Belenko reached into her pocket and pulled out a bottle to refill her e-cig. “All of you have some kind of crazy gimmick or piece of gear from what we saw hitting that parasite stronghold. Which one are you?”

 

“I’m trained in use of the Raptora combat armor,” Pharah answered. “It’s capable of utilizing a system of miniaturized jet motors to launch the user at minimum three hundred meters and allow for limited hovering capabilities. The suit also has a built-in system of servos and motors, so I’m able to wield the associated rocket launcher effectively.”

 

Belenko nodded, taking one more drag before putting the e-cig away and exhaling one last massive plume of smoke that was swiftly dissipated into the clouds. “Perfect, you can draw fire from the ground until we get into position.”

 

Pharah scoffed at the idea. “Please, the PAC will hear those massive boxes you can APCs long before I need to worry about being shot.”

 

Belenko stretched as the sun started to rise to the east. “We’ll see bird-girl, we’ll see. Now c’mon, let’s get ready for the day.”

 

It didn’t take long for everyone to prep for the day. The EU troopers and SG-1 quickly redressed into their fatigues and checked their weapons. The Overwatch team took a different approach, Brigitte helping Reinhardt suit up in his armor as Tracer assisted Pharah.

 

Brodeur leaned over to Lisowski as he adjusted his straps. “Am I the only one that thinks this is a lot of over-engineering?”

 

Lisowski focused on checking her LMG. “Don’t let the Germans hear you say that.”

 

Campbell made another check of his personal. “Alright, we’ll be at the base in roughly thirty minutes. We’ll secure our transports and roll out from there.” Looking at Reinhardt’s armor in all it’s full glory, Campbell quickly tapped on the personal. “Alright, we’re set. Once we land, we move to our positions and hold for the attack.”

 

O’Neill held up a hand. “Typical Russian tactics? Human waves, just throwing bodies into the grinder?”

 

Campbell nodded. “They do prefer to utilize a strong combined-arms effort, but yes they do have conscripted forces. Now everyone be ready, we’ll move the second we land.”

 

The inertia behind _Tethys_ slowed, and everyone watched as the blue skies turned into the light brown sands of Kuwait. _Tethys_ settled into the raised Earthen berm, and the teams moved off quickly to a bustling field headquarters. An older officer and his staff waited to meet them as the sand swirled around them, and out in the distance of the base several black-painted angular aircraft zipped about.

 

“Capt. Campbell,” the Austrian shouted. “Congratulations on your promotion, I hear your new assignment has…” He saw Overwatch practically strolling down the berm in their full “gear”, a stark contrast to the uniformity hurrying around them. “Brought some new challenges.”

 

Campbell tried to put on a smile. “It gives as good as I get sir. Is there something you need?”

 

“Your vehicles are in order and your supplies are waiting. The team you’re leaving here I want placed in reserve, if the PAC come breaking down the door I’d like to have specialists ready to blunt their assault and be in position for counter-attack.” The colonel smiled as he led them all away from the berm into the base. “We expect the PAC titans to arrive in the region in two days. They aren’t expected to move into the combat area, but we do know that II Command has recently been reinforced with elements of the 8th Command Regiment.”

 

Carter kept brisk pace with the colonel, trying to ignore everyone nearby staring at Reinhardt and Brigitte and really all of Overwatch. “What’s their reputation sir?”

 

“The bastards were the ones who struck Tunis,” the colonel said with unrestrained bitterness. “Tons of food and medical supplies stolen from our people. The monsters want to kill everyone they can’t make bow to them. Nearly destroyed our merchant capabilities and almost sank a ship of refugees from Portugal.”

 

O’Neill yawned. “Great, checking off the villain list while we’re at it.”

 

Campbell turned to the colonel with a firm expression. “We’ll take them to task for it sir, we’ll rip’em down and show’em that they’ve got nothing to gain from hitting us.”

 

“Good luck captain,” the colonel said, watching as Overwatch moved to the motor pool. “You’re going to need it.”

 

A massive flatbed sat idling beside four Badgers, Reinhardt laughing as he moved toward it. “Perfect, they know what they’re doing after all.”

 

“Actually you’re staying here,” Campbell said. “Fourth team is Cpl. Durand, Van der Burgh, Ricci, Vogt, Teal’c, Reinhardt and Brigitte. You’ll be on the line here in case the PAC make a strike on the base.”

 

Durand gave a thumbs-up. “ _Oui_ , we’ll make sure nothing happens here.”

 

Reinhardt ripped off his helmet. “Outrageous! I was promised battle, honor in combat-”

 

“And that’s the talk that makes me want to keep you here.” Campbell glared up at the armored visage of the crusader. “No objections Capt. Amari?”

 

Pharah looked to Reinhardt, as saw the anger on the old warrior’s face even through his helmet. She knew that he’d be useful on the front, able to tank fire from the PAC forces and save lives. Only this wasn’t their world. Campbell knew how the PAC operated and what their techniques were, and would know where her team would be the most useful. “The next battle Reinhardt, I promise you’ll be on the front then.”

 

Reinhardt lowered his hammer almost like his joints were rusted. “Oh. I…I understand Pharah. Very well. I’ll hold this post and let none seize it.” The words seemed to bring him back slightly, though Pharah knew Brigitte was going to have her hands full for the next few days.

 

“Team three at the refinery will be Kavanaugh, Russo, Lee, Carter, Tracer, and Genji.” Tracer gave Genji a high-five at the word. “Team two will be Sgt. Weber, Becker, Gantz, Forsythe, McCree, Zenyatta, and Dr. Jackson.”

 

“Well this aughta be a hoot’n’holler eh doc?” McCree draped his arm around Jackson’s shoulders. Daniel quickly redjusted his glasses.

 

“All others will be team one. We’ll hold the crossroads at all costs, teams three and two will act as reserves. Worst case scenario is that we fall back to the warehouse complex and hold them from seizing the oil storage depot. All of you get to the armory, get to your vehicles, and move out.”

 

The teams split, and moved for their positions. The line at the ammo bunkers ran fast, five magazines standard for the EU troopers each for their primary weapon, six for their sidearms, five for any trooper with a missile launcher and three grenades. Each team also grabbed one field defibrillator, a box of medical supplies and ammunition, one automatic gun system, and one portable shield. Each trooper also took several individual pieces of gear, from massive mines that were designed for anti-vehicle work to magnetic balls designed to roll to the enemy. Fully loaded and ready for anything, the teams split and rolled out.

 

Reinhardt watched as the transports rolled out from the EU base, becoming dust in the distance until they fully vanished from sight. Brigitte patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll be able to fight soon Reinhardt, I promise.”

 

“I know,” Reinhardt said, half-believing himself as he watched Pharah streak over the transports. “It doesn’t make this easier.”

* * *

Vladomirovic watched from the bridge of rhe _Kim_ as the titan flew through the salty air of the Persian Gulf. The _Putin_ and _Jinping_ flanked them, which Vladomirovic knew was giving Choi no small measure of pride. “Major, the situation?”

 

“Agents have confirmed that several ‘odd’ individuals have been sighted at the EU base in Cairo boarding the _Tethys_ for Highway Tampa.” Choi grunted. “Apologies command sergeant, operations area Delta-4.” Chan grinned, it never got old when the aged North Korean was angered at her using a “Western” term for an operations area or piece of equipment. It’s why she did it so much. “One of them claims to have sighted a ‘massive armored man’ moving into the European base. They sent a picture.”

 

The image came up and Vladomirovic shook his head. Choi did the talking for him. “That thing is nothing more than a massive target. One strafing run by a Type 4 or a strike from Type 32 could destroy it easily. Why bring that onto the field?”

 

“That’s our mission command sergeant,” Vladomirovic said firmly. He knew the bridge didn’t need to hear an entire desertion on the design of infantry armor systems. “Inform the committee that we will begin initial actions in two days and that my plan will proceed as expected.” Chan nodded and dutifully recorded the message.

 

Choi walked up next to his commander. “Do you think they succeeded in creating some kind of powered infantry armor sir?”

 

Vladomirovic shook his head, his gaunt gray-haired head resembling a mummified skeleton pulled from the sands below. “Doubtful, like us they can’t afford to spend resources on an experimental project that shows no promise. If they had succeeded, their plants in North Africa would already be in full-scale production. No, this is certainly something else.”

 

“Not enough though sir,” Choi said proudly, puffing out his chest a bit. “Our forces will crush this, this ‘knight’ like water crushes a foundation.”

 

Vladomirovic smiled. Just because the rank didn’t exist anymore didn’t mean that commissars didn’t exist. “All titans full speed, I want to secure our positions as soon as we make landfall.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 

Reinhardt watched the desert before him, the palm trees swaying and the sands twisting in the wind. The ocean air gave everything a scent of brine, not helped by the sweat he’d worked up as he and Brigitte maintained their armors and weapons.

 

“Quite the workload,” Durand said, walking over with five water bottles. “Three for you my friend?”

 

Reinhardt smiled as he took the three offered. “ _Danke_ my friend. Brigitte thinks the joints need more work, but I don’t have the heart to tell her I already checked them. Better she keeps her skills sharp eh?”

 

“She’ll figure it out eventually.” Opening his own water, Durand took a sip as Reinhardt drained one of the bottles in seconds. Looking the mountain of muscle over, Durand tried to count the scars and realized he’d only lose count. “So, robots eh?”

 

“Omnics,” Reinhardt said with a chuckle, using what dry part of his tank top left to wipe his forehead. “You people are smart, you simply use drones and robotics without AI. An ice age would be a welcome challenge for us instead.”

 

“You can’t fight ice with a hammer,” Durand said solemnly, thinking back to the miles-high wall of ice back in Verdun. “Still, you’re right that we probably got lucky. The idea of facing down hordes of killer robots? I’d rather not live out the Terminator movies, thanks.”

 

Reinhardt laughed. “I’ve watched those as well. Not in front of the omnics though, I fear they would find it offensive, a stereotype of their people in fact.”

 

Durand looked over in surprise. “You have the Terminator movies too? What about Disney?”

 

Reinhardt grinned. “Conceal don’t feel, don’t let them see!”

 

Durand jumped in. “ _Be the good girl you always have to be!_ ”

 

Both sang together. “ _Well now they know!_ ”

 

The motor pool troopers jumped in for the chorus. “ _Let it go! Let it go! Can’t hold it back anymore!_ ”

 

Before the song could truly being a senior staff NCO stormed out. “I hear singing, I don’t hear working!”

 

Reinhardt laughed as the troopers hurried back to work. “Ah, it’s good to know that you all are not defeated as well. Tell me, when did the Eurocorps model become standard?”

 

“2079, about when the EU realized that taxation was becoming shaky,” Durand noted as Reinhardt cracked the second bottle. “By that point Eastern Europe had joined for the most part, they all noted that the PAC’s association with China and North Korea were sticking points they couldn’t move past. That and the authoritarianism of the Russian government.”

 

Reinhardt nodded as he finished the second bottle. “A is A after all, it seems we can never escape that monster's plans.” Walking out of the motor pool, Reinhardt watched as the teams finished sandbagging their positions and sipped water. “It does break my heart though, knowing the Heer is no longer present.”

 

“Well don’t worry, the efficiency survived,” Durand said with a mocking tone. “The Germans basically run the logistics and supply chains, the British hold the tactical plans, and the French are the strategic experts.”

 

Reinhardt smiled at the oncoming joke. “And the Italians and Spaniards?”

 

“They organized running like hell from the ice.” Stretching out, Durand walked to the defensive positions at the base. They were on the extreme edge of the main battle area, just at the entrance to the base proper. If the PAC forces did breach this far into the perimeter, it was a desperate hold-out until support could be moved up from the headquarters in Kuwait City. “What about this crusader program? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to devote those resources to more conventional systems?”

 

Reinhardt laughed, slapping Durand on the back. Each hit was like being thrown about during martial arts training. “Not likely my friend. Developing a new vehicle or refitting old ones would have been too time consuming. We had already been working on powered armors, and with each man being valuable the Crusaders were determined to be the most cost-effective means to fight back. Each man was as good as a platoon of infantry, and we broke their advance at Eichenwald.” Reinhardt’s eyes dived back into the past a little. “Honor and glory, we had both that day.”

 

“Well don’t expect honor or glory against II Command,” Durand said flatly, going over to a cart filled with water. “Between driving into civilian camps and stealing the supplies and killing every captured prisoner they come across, honor’s not in supply right now.”

 

“Animals,” Reinhardt growled, his fist tightening around the water bottle. “What of the rest of the world?”

 

“Well Canada’s lost last we heard,” Durand said as he wheeled the cart to the defenses. “The United States did all they could to suck all the oil possible out of Alaska, and we only know that South America is so overcrowded there’s rumors of sanctioned death squads killing their people.”

 

Reinhardt’s face fell as they walked. “So much pain and death. Can no one help them?”

 

“We help them by stopping the PAC,” Durand said flatly. “Once we knock them out, retake Europe? Then we can move on to the rest of the world my friend. That was the flaw of the United States. They couldn’t get their house in order before they moved into the Middle East in 2003.” Smiling again, Durand whistled. “Alright you dogs, don’t forget to hydrate. Don’t need our newly-promoted captain sending me back down to your level before my tour is over.”

 

The men cheered, jumping out of the fighting positions and small trenches with their fatigues and cammies half-off in the midday heat. Collecting the water they thanked the corporal and made their way to their ration kits; one man keep working, the other ate. Durand stripped off his own blouse and jumped in to help. “So, what other questions do you have Galahad?”

Reinhardt laughed as he picked up a spare e-tool. It looked like a miniature in his hands, but the troopers were glad he decided to help. “Your kits for a start. Those rifles, integrated biometric systems for identification?”

 

“Each rifle to each trooper,” Durand said, pitching a handful of sand from the trench. “One SCAR-11 standard per infantryman, five magazines of thirty rounds. We usually go out with a P33 as well, never know when your primary might decide to go on strike.”

 

“There’s also three three-round shell clips,” Vogt said, smiling as worked the ground. “Depending on the operation you can move with either three shotgun shells or three micro-rocket shells. Right now, it’s rockets. Urban or heavy forests? We’d be going out hunting.”

 

Reinhardt smiled at his fellow Deutsch. “What if they get too close then?”

 

Vogt pulled out a small combat knife. “Aluminum-Steel blade, doesn’t break in extreme cold and does the job every time. I know, I’ve taken my share of PAC tags.”

 

Reinhardt nodded. Vengeance had been common in the Crusaders. Trophies from fallen Omnics littered the homes of those who survived.

 

“Finished with the joints,” Brigitte said, wiping off her forehead as she sipped at the water left behind for her. “So, what next?”

 

“We dig,” Reinhardt said, tossing her one of the e-tools. “Come my loyal squire, we must prepare for the enemy assault.”

 

Brigitte smiled as she jumped into the trench and went to work.

* * *

Carter placed another APM. “Funny, hundreds of years and it’s barely changed.”

 

“If it’s not broken,” Kavanaugh said, placing his last around the perimeter of the refinery. “Alright, the lieutenant in charge of the platoon says his people are set as well. We’ll run patrols every four hours, I don’t want the commando getting the drop on us.”

 

Carter nodded. “Do you have any systems that might detect their active camo?”

 

Kavanaugh shook his head as she rolled to his team’s position at the small monitoring building that in the past controlled the stacks of the refinery. A large A-8 “Tiger” tank, one of five, sat at one of the entrances buried into an earthen bunker so that only the turret stood above ground. Other troopers went about preparing defenses, making sure the tanks were completely empty of any fumes or liquids. Carter had thought about suggesting they be filled with sand to use as a better cover but it would have taken too long.

 

Carter though for a moment. “I could recall to the SGC, we have technologies capable of breaking through optic camouflage and revealing hidden enemies. All we’d need is one of those systems to test with.”

 

Russo laughed from atop the roof, still scanning the horizon with his sniper rifle. “Good luck ma’am, if our own people can’t grab a copy there’s little chance you could.”

 

“I’ll let you talk like that to the captain, not to a foreign officer.” Kavanaugh picked up a small rock and threw it at Russo. “Sorry ma’am. Anyway, he’s right. We tried using our own special forces to seize a sample, but by the time we managed to finally get one of them he rendered the system unusable. They’re biometric systems, but they also react to the user’s words, their finger prints, I mean if you placed the wrong finger print on one of those systems it automatically destroys the electronic guts of it all.”

 

Carter sighed. “Great, so the PAC are paranoid as well as genocidal.”

 

“All the best parts of communism and fascism,” Kavanaugh mused, walking inside to the field plan on a center table. “They’ve already seen us preparing the defense, by the time the titans arrive they’ll know what we’re trying to do. We’ll need to play dirty.”

 

“I have some ideas on that,” Genji said, sitting in a corner meditating. “I can dim my lights on command. If you wish, I can find one of these commandos and bring them to us.”

 

Kavanaugh looked to Carter. “He can?”

 

“Course he can!” Tracer laughed as she blinked down the stairs. “Genji here’s a genuine ninja, all the trappings and skills. If you want someone to bring you one of those bums there’s no one better.”

 

Kavanaugh thought for a minute, pacing around the field model and staring at an area just outside the perimeter. “You’re sure you can secure one of them? They all have cyanide pills in false teeth, they don’t take chances with their secrets.”

 

“I will endeavor to at least bring back a piece of their camo system for Maj. Carter.” Genji stood, walking over to the field plan. “Where would their scouts most likely be?”

 

Kavanaugh pulled up a map of the operations area and pointed at a small hill. “Here. Raised position, offers maximum view off the position and it’s far enough away from these buildings that we can’t easily mount counter-recon patrols.”

 

“I will strike come nightfall,” Genji said. “Tracer, be ready to help me once I capture them.”

 

Tracer nodded, smiling as she put her hands on her hips. “Don’t worry luv, I’ll be there so fast you won’t have time to process it.”

 

Carter smiled as she went back to the plan. “What about defenses, you’re sure those EMP mines will give us the time to strike their armor?”

 

“They should give us five seconds until the automatic reset reboots their systems,” Kavanaugh said. “Long enough to give the Tigers at the gates time to send rounds at their forces. Nevermind our own man-portable systems.”

 

Carter nodded. “Alright. So we’re good against armor, against infantry, do we need to worry about the air?”

 

“Several of our launchers double as anti-air systems,” Kavanaugh said. “Put our people in the windows, clear the room behind them? PAC pilots’ll come to the ground in pieces.”

 

“That’s the plan anyway,” Lee said, cleaning his rifle on one of the desks left behind. “If the PAC really want this refinery corporal, we all know they wouldn’t just send three titans and II Command.”

 

Kavanaugh sighed, bending over the plan as Carter looked for an answer. “What’s he talking about?”

 

“Vladomirovic is the PAC wonder boy, and they’re sending him to take this specific area,” Kavanaugh said. “Then we call on the MVTF to send us support. The PAC are bastards, but they’re not stupid.”

 

Carter’s eyes widened. “You think this was to get at MV-1.”

 

Lee nodded. “Of course even if it wasn’t and they still succeed they seize the refinery. The whole operation is a win-win.” Lee paused. “Well unless they lose of course.”

 

“The point,” Kavanaugh said, his Cork brogue lilting through the room. “Is that whatever Vladomirovic has planned, he’ll have his own ideas on what to do when he realizes that the people defending the plant don’t match with whatever intelligence he’s received.”

 

Carter nodded, going back to the model. “So where else can we shore up?”

* * *

Daniel looked out over the sands stretching out to the western horizon. “ _Just like back on Abydos_ ,” he thought. “ _God, I hope they’re all okay._ ”

 

Someone clambered up behind him onto the roof of the concrete slab that sheltered the boxy APC Daniel had rode in on. Turning, he saw Sgt. Weber walking over. “Doctor, enjoying the view?”

 

Daniel snapped back from his memories. “I was just thinking about an old home of mine, just how the sand stretches on as if forever.”

 

Weber nodded, turning toward the intersection and scanning the area with a pair of binoculars. “Stay here, doctor, we need to keep focused.”

 

Daniel nodded, watching as the small force ordered to hold the buildings set up machine gun positions and shoved barricades into place. A massive walker stomped through the center of the small complex, settling into position next to a bunker watching over the bridge over the small stream running through the refinery. “So, uh, what’s our job again?”

 

“Reserves and a guard on the flank,” Weber said, not taking her eyes off the distance. “The PAC might try to drop commandos behind the lines, we’ll be here to stop them from seizing this point and striking the captain from the rear.”

 

Daniel walked over from where he sat to look over as well. “Well, what do you want me to do?”

 

Weber turned to the south, watching the skies of any sign of an enemy air assault. “You specialize in people, _ja_? Cultures, what makes people do what they do? Tell me what you think of the PAC from what you’ve read.”

 

Daniel looked like he’d been caught off guard from the question but quickly collected himself. “Hm. Okay, the PAC mindset. Well that’s a bit of a loaded question, I mean between the Russian and Chinese influences there’s a lot to sift through. All I know for sure is that they’re trying to secure the resources you’ve laid claim to despite your offers of help. It speaks to a mindset in their leadership of paranoia and mistrust, that they can’t depend on your leaders to carry out their end of any agreement.”

 

Weber didn’t react. “This is a war of resources doctor.”

 

Daniel took a breath. “Yes but think about it from their perspective. I mean I’ve only been here twice and even I can understand that they might fear the EU not giving them all of what’s promised in the light of the resources being so restricted.”

 

Weber lowered the binoculars. “And their killing of any prisoners and leaving non-PAC civilians to starve?”

 

“Simple preservation of resources,” Daniel said darkly. “If they don’t kill your people, they have to provide for them, and that pulls resources away from where they’re needed.”

 

“Hey, someone want to give me a hand down here?”

 

Walking to the edge of the roof, Daniel and Weber looked down to see McCree with one of the roller mines latched onto his bionic left arm. “Damn thing thinks I’m a tank.”

 

Zenyatta floated past with several stuck to his body, to the confused stares of the EU troopers inside the wire. “I hold these devices no ill will.”

 

Weber sighed. “C’mon, we’d better go help them.”

* * *

O’Neill shook his head as a pair of walkers stomped the perimeter of the compound. “Let me get this straight, _no one_ likes Star Trek anymore?”

 

“If I had to guess, trying to survive an apocalyptic situation like this made us all more focused on the present than the future.” Finished marking off points on his map, Campbell looked to the south. “Can’t see the PAC trying to make for the checkpoint, no reinforcements from that way and no danger of us being cut off. I’ll send a patrol in two hours to sweep for infiltrators.”

 

“Good idea.” O’Neill knelt down and took out a piece of gum to chew on for a while. “ _Star Wars_ is still around though, right?”

 

“Well that’s just obvious,” Campbell said. “Lot of people had a problem with episode eight when it was first released, but personally I don’t understand why or how.”

 

O’Neill blinked. “Episode eight?”

 

Schneider cried out, and the two officers looked over to see her clutching at a bleeding gash on her hand as she cursed in German. “Fucking fence, those fucking bastards leaving it around!”

 

Mercy looked down from the gas station overlooking the intersection and spreading her “wings” floated down to Schneider with her staff already glowing. “It’s alright, it’s just a minor cut. I’ll have it fixed in a few seconds, just stay still and let me handle it.”

 

Schneider looked to Campbell, and getting a nod settled down and let Mercy go to work with nervous eyes. “That staff, it’s supposed to heal me?”

 

Mercy smiled softly and pointed to the wound. “It’s already coagulating.”

 

Schneider blinked, and looking down she was shocked to see that yes, her hand was already healing up. “Incredible. How though, it’s just light.”

 

“The light is just an effect of the beam itself,” Mercy said, smiling softly as she held Schneider’s hand close to the staff. “The Caduceus simply stimulates the body’s own natural metabolic properties. The beams sent out either stimulate production of endorphins and coagulants to heal in the event of injury or accelerate production of testosterone for increased physical performance.”

 

O’Neill raised an eyebrow. “And none of that causes any side effects?”

 

Mercy shook her head. “It all uses the body’s own natural biologic processes. Once the beam cuts out the effects only last for several seconds until natural production resumes. No lasting side-effects.”

 

O’Neill pointed at the staff. “Only if I’m literally about to bleed out.”

 

Jets sounded in the distance, and everyone turned to see Pharah flying overhead and come in for landing in the center of the makeshift compound. “No sign of any infiltrators colonel, but I did see movement at what looked like a port to the east.”

 

“PAC forward company,” Campbell noted. “Expected that, they’ve probably already got teams on the move through the area. Good job Amari, go inside and get some water, can’t imagine that metal suit’s doing you any favors out here.”

 

Pharah nodded, pulling her helmet off and shaking out her hair. O’Neill turned around to check the other end of the position when he noticed Mercy staring at Pharah as she walked into the gas station. Then she noticed O’Neill and quickly went back to Schneider. O’Neill looked back to the gas station, back to Mercy, then shook his head as he quickly walked to the south of the wall. Garcia and Lisowski were on the railgun emplacement, performing a maintenance check to make sure the thing functioned properly. “Magnetic?”

 

Lisowski nodded, not looking up from the control panel she was running a quick diagnostic on. “A refinement of the technologies developed roughly around your time colonel. The work is all on a solid slug of titanium. If you’re too close as it shoots through your vehicle, you can lose some skin and even break a bone from the force of it passing by.”

 

Garcia smiled as he worked on the barrel. “We’ve found our share of PAC tankers screaming their heads off during mop-ups, if they still had them.”

 

O’Neill nodded, turning to Campbell as the young officer walked up. “So, when I’m from, the goal usually is to seize the crossroads and control it.” O’Neill went over the statement and made sure it was grammatically correct given the situation.

 

“Normally I’d agree, but in this case Vladomirovic will strike at the refinery or the west checkpoint.” Campbell raised his binoculars to a checkpoint toward the south. “He’ll try to encircle us and cut us off from reinforcements.”

 

O’Neill nodded. “Bastogne in the desert.”

 

Campbell kept his eyes on the south. “Sir, you might want to sight in on the checkpoint south of us. I want to make sure I’m not going crazy.”

 

O’Neill did so, and at first saw nothing. There was a bunker guarding the entrance, towers to the rear, some pre-fab buildings-

 

“I see it,” O’Neill said quietly. It was small, but something moved inside a ruined container to the right of the bunker. “I’ve only seen birds so far, nothing bigger than that around here?”

 

“Nearly all the animals larger than mice have practically been hunted to extinction,” Campbell said. O’Neill could only imagine what PETA would do if they found a way to this universe. “I’ll organize a patrol, we’ll scour the checkpoint and get the hell back before the main force arrives.”

 

“Get to it captain, I’ll keep watch here.” As Campbell rushed to organize his team, O’Neill kept observing the checkpoint. But he also saw, for a brief moment, what looked like a cigarette light up inside one of the pre-fab huts.

“ _Poor discipline buddy,_ ” O’Neill thought as he turned to walk back into the compound. “ _No chance getting out now._ ”

* * *

Night slowly settled onto the desert, the warm sands turning to cool plains. Noise discipline was in effect, the only sounds were the distant running streams and the far cries of birds overhead.

 

It was broken when the transport rolled out from the gas station, troopers and two Overwatch agents shifting and bouncing over the “road” leading to the south. Pharah tried to keep her armor as small as possible, but it wasn’t easy when the system was designed to be outside all the time.

 

“You think you might want to repaint that?” Becker asked. “I know it’s too late now but flying around like that can’t make you a very hard target.”

 

Pharah gave a sheepish grin as she looked at her armor. “Maybe, but then I’d have to repaint it every time I move to a new operation. Maybe I can get Winston to design a coat of paint similar to what the PAC use to hide themselves?”

 

“Still can’t believe it,” Lisowski said, looking at her left hand as she flexed it. “Lights that heal, and now super-intelligent gorillas from the moon. That’s not science, that’s science-fiction.”

 

“Bad sci-fi at that,” Ricci mentioned. “Gorillas on the moon? Why?”

 

“Containment,” Garcia mused. “If something went wrong, they would be trapped and dealt with if they ever tried to come to Earth.” He looked over and saw the uncomfortable look on Mercy and Pharah’s faces. “Looks like I’m right.”

 

“Well Winston’s our friend, and the world’s most brilliant scientist.” Pharah glared down the team. “If any of you meet him, and you don’t show him proper respect?”

 

“Then their superiors will handle it,” O’Neill spoke up from under his cap. “Jeez, is there gonna be a fight between every team? If it isn’t Korra and Parker I have to deal with you all arguing about a gorilla.”

 

The team rode in silence again, until Brodeur spoke up. “So, you were a mercenary? But you wound up working with Winston when he called you.”

 

Pharah nodded. “Overwatch was my family. It still is I suppose.” She smiled at Mercy. “When my mother died, they were my family even after my father took me in.”

 

O’Neill pulled his hat lower and did his best to not speak at all.

 

Campbell came over the intercom. “ _Standby, we’re getting close._ ”

 

The troopers made final adjustments, checking their gear and making sure they were ready to move. The APC slowed and opened, the troopers rushing out to observe the area. They covered all angles as they rushed out, O’Neill and Phara moving to the front of the vehicle as Campbell poked his head out of the commander’s seat. “Alright, we’ll wait for the hourly radio check. By the time we open fire we’ll already be too close for them to react properly. Pharah, hold back and wait for us to move forward. When the APC moves in for support, you take to the skies and take them on the flank. Don’t get too far ahead though, stay with us and if you have to land make sure it’s behind the Badger. Anything from you sir?”

 

“Just don’t let us get shot,” O’Neill said flatly. “Alright, move in fifteen.”

 

The troopers bounded forward over the sand, eyes forward as O’Neill kept an eye on them all. He wasn’t going to issue any orders, not unless he needed to. No, this was Schneider’s show, and he’d follow her lead.

 

Garcia was busy running through a thousand thoughts a second. He had to time the hit perfectly, too soon or late and the PAC forces would be able to hear their radio transmissions, but too much movement and they’d been sniped by the commando before they could do any good. About six hundred meters from the checkpoint they froze, dropping to the ground and waiting.

 

It had been hasty, but Campbell and O’Neill had done quick work on it that would make sure everyone came back alive. It was slightly more up-front that most of the troopers were used to, but at the very least the commandos wouldn’t be expecting it.

 

Garcia sighted in through the scope of his Moretti. The rifle was smaller than most people thought when they imagined a sniper rifle, but then all bullpup designs were. He scanned through the darkness, looking for anything that would clue in on a target. An outline, a shadow, something that the commandos forgot even with all their care. There, an outline against one of the buildings. Darker than it, barely noticeable but there about a meter high. He slowed his breathing, waiting for the right moment to open fire. Adjusting the sights, the view zoomed on the fire and confirmed what he saw. It was a PAC soldier, flattened against the pre-fab building watching the horizon in the darkest place he could.

 

Garcia checked the time on his visor’s HUD and waited. After a few seconds, the hourly check began and he radioed in. “One target, roughly six hundred, against the building. Permission to fire?”

 

Campbell didn’t hesitate. “ _Permission granted._ ”

 

Garcia took another breath and exhaled. When he knew all the air was out of his body, he started to squeeze. He froze as he took another breath. He started to squeeze again-

 

The shot rang through the desert night, and barely half a second after the commando dropped. Suddenly the night was alight, rockets streaking through the dark air and lighting up the checkpoint. Suddenly dozens of voices called out in the distance as fire started to come from downrange. Garcia shifted as the team opened fire on the commando position. He sighted another target, a commando lining up his own shot from the bunker. He saw the shot miss, but it forced the enemy down behind cover and would have to do.

 

The line started to bound forward. One trooper lays down covering fire, the other bounds forward; repeat until you close with enemy. It helped that soon the APC charged forward firing on the enemy as well. Garcia shifted his targets, firing on any commando wielding a rocket launcher.

  
There was noise like a rocket being fired, but as Garcia started to fear that he missed one suddenly the checkpoint was bombarded with rockets as the APC charged forward. Garcia didn’t know what just happened, but the enemy fire dropped off and gave them all an opening.

 

Sprinting forward, Garcia sighted in again and fired. The commando was struck in the shoulder, falling silently as blood painted the bunker wall behind him. “ _God, I swear they’re making them machines_.”

 

The push was fast, the APC acting as the anchor for the final assault into the checkpoint’s gates. Rounds threw up sand everywhere, and rushing behind the APC he dared to look up.

 

Pharah was diving and soaring through the night air, commandos fire unable to choose between killing her and the APC. A rocket streaked down and hit inside the bunker, throwing debris and body parts flying out. Another hit at the entrance to one of the pre-fab buildings with the same result.

 

Mercy ran over, her staff high as she surveyed the scene. “You all work fast, I’ll say that.”

 

“You should’ve seen us at Gibraltar,” Garcia said, reloading his rifle. He smiled as Mercy tried to puzzle out why the action moved forward instead of to the rear. “We held off two divisions of PAC forces, and all we got was North Africa.”

 

Rounds raked around the APC, and Garcia cursed. “ _Hijo de puta!_ Don’t you have a weapon?”

 

Mercy scowled, reaching behind her back and pulling out a pistol. “Are you sure I need to-”

 

“Yes!” Rolling onto the ground, Garcia quickly sighted and fired, forcing a commando back into the unruined building.

 

Mercy sighed, leaning from around the APC and firing to the right as the team kept laying down fire. The blaster brightened the night around it, the blasts tracing through the night sky as they hit around the vehicle shelter. The commandos ducked back, firing blind from behind cover to try and buy themselves time.

 

Garcia kicked at her leg. “Maybe use the sights instead of just shooting randomly? Or do you want them to kill you?”

 

Mercy didn’t respond, she just popped back out again and kept firing. By now the fire from the commando unit had died down to nearly nonexistent, and the team cautiously stood up. Weapons still raised, they slowly moved through the compound as O’Neill signaled Pharah to land.

 

Garcia rose and drew his pistol, the rifle was too large to be effective in clearing the last building. “You alright?”

 

Mercy glared at the marksman as she rose. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kick me from now on thank you. I’ve seen combat before, I know how to act.”

 

Garcia scoffed. “You have? You weren’t even trying to aim, you were nearly blind firing. What, afraid to actually kill the people trying to kill you?”

 

Mercy ignored Garcia as Pharah landed in the compound near O’Neill. “Captain, was anyone wounded?”

 

“ _Aye_ , _looks like Schneider took a round to the leg. She’s by the billboard at the gate, get moving._ ”

 

Mercy started sprinting, quickly shoving her blaster behind her back once more as she moved. Garcia shook his head and went to join the others at the last standing pre-fab. Scholz stood to the left of the door, his carbine at the ready for when Lisowski shot off the hinges with her Clark shotgun. Russo stood behind him, as Belenko kept them all covered from the APC’s machine gun. Pharah did the same, scanning the remains of the compound from her position as O’Neill and Campbell talked over what had happened.

 

Lisowski blasted apart the door, following in behind Garcia as the team swept the building. It was textbook, the first two in clearing the corners and ceiling as the rest cleared the smaller room to the right. Garcia stood waiting as the others cleared the building, his revolver tight in his grip as he scanned the room, listened for any sound that would clue him in to a last commando waiting for a final desperate chance to strike one last blow for the PAC.

 

“Clear!”

 

Garcia relaxed slightly, but as the team started to file out he heard it, the whine. It was electronic, something running in the background that required power. He didn’t react, he acted as if he was following the others out then turned in the direction of the whine. He saw the shadows warp and fired once, twice, three times where they did. A cry went out in the room, and the shadows fell away to reveal a PAC commando clutching at his right side. Garcia knew he only had seconds and jumped on the man as the others rushed back inside. The commando was a recon specialist, his faceplate costing Garcia precious seconds as he ripped it off as the others held the commando’s arms down and tried to search for any weapons. As they did Garcia shoved his gloved hand into the commando’s mouth trying desperately to stop it before it happened. He reached back into the commando’s mouth and reached around for the molars. He reached for the top back left…

 

The commando’s tooth was missing. Garcia cursed and pulled his hand out, laying a punch across the commando’s face just to give one last strike before the cyanide took effect. As Garcia and the team watched the man’s mouth started to foam as his muscles convulsed. Every instinct in the commando’s body told him to get rid of whatever was killing him, but training overruled all of it. He just stared stone-faced at the ceiling until the twitching stopped and the rank stench of his body’s waste filled the room.

 

Campbell was waiting at the door as the team filed out, Garcia shaking his head as they started policing the bodies. “Never fails, they always get that cyanide in their system before we have the chance to capture them.”

 

O’Neill sighed as he looked over the blown-out remains of the camp. “I’d say the rockets did a lot more damage. Hey Amari, what the hell was that?”

 

Pharah looked over in surprise. “Oh, you mean my rocket barrage? My suit is loaded with dozens of micro-rocket panels. I can activate them while in-flight, I realized that if I bombarded the commandos while they were occupied with the assault on the ground they’d be caught undefended from the air.”

 

“Well next time a little warning huh?” O’Neill mimed dusting sand off his arms for good measure. “Some of those things nearly scorched me.”

 

Pharah gave a small smile. “Sorry colonel, I’ll make sure to radio out before the next time.”

 

Mercy sighed, shaking her head as she walked to join the three. “Schneider will be fine, the round was through and through and didn’t hit any major vessels. She didn’t seem to appreciate my use of the staff though, kept telling me she didn’t want any ‘witchcraft’ near him.”

 

“It is a bit to get used to, you’d admit,” Campbell said, staring at the staff. “I mean we don’t have anything nearly that capable.”

 

“Witchcraft though,” Mercy said with barely-restrained insult. “This is the year 2143 isn’t it? Saying a piece of advanced science is witchcraft is nonsense, something a child would do.”

 

“She’s alive, that’s what’s important.” Scanning the checkpoint and the dead bodies scattered about, he let out a sigh and grabbed for his radio. “1st team to command, we need a mortuary detail to the south checkpoint.”

 

Before he could get a response, Kavanaugh came over the net. “ _Sir, you’ll want to get to my position now, we finally caught one!_ ”

* * *

The APC screamed through the refinery, barely missing running into one of the tanks guarding it. Campbell leapt out and ran for the offices, O’Neill and Mercy trailing behind him. Kavanaugh was waiting at the door, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Genji just brought him in sir, this could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

 

“Was he trying to infiltrate the position?”

 

“No sir,” Kavanaugh said with a laugh. “See, it turns out that your man is an honest-to-God ninja, from a whole clan from the sound of his story. Well, I took the initiative and sent him out on his own to try and find us a commando. I knew they had to be watching the position, why not take the chance?”

 

Campbell clapped Kavanaugh on the shoulder. “That’s some good initiative there corporal, you’ll get a drink on me when we get back to Egypt. Intelligence should be here in twenty minutes, we just keep him alive until then and we all get some leave when this is over.”

 

Walking inside the offices, Campbell and O’Neill saw Carter and Tracer standing outside one of the doors. “Sir. Genji’s in there with him, making sure he can’t find some way to escape.”

 

“Or kill himself,” Tracer said with disdain. “Bloody nutter, what good does he think he’ll do trying to off himself? And with a cyanide pill in a fake tooth!”

 

O’Neill nodded. “Agreed, the old ‘fake tooth cyanide’ bit is really overdone. You think by the future they’d have some kind of miniature bomb inside the brain.”

 

“PAC commandos are permitted intelligence that the average conscript wouldn’t even dream of seeing,” Campbell said, taking off his weapons and equipment. “I’m going in there for five minutes, try to see what kind of people we’re dealing with.”

 

Opening the door, Campbell saw the commando sitting in the middle of the room with a uniform ripped and torn and a face battered and bruised. He quickly shut the door and scowled at Kavanaugh. “The fuck did you do to the prisoner?”

 

Kavanaugh held up his hands. “Wasn’t us sir, swear to God. We took off his gear and we saw him like that. Genji said it was just wounds from when he took him down. From what Genji said, his partner came off worse from the encounter. Something about unleashing the dragon.”

 

Campbell took a breath with that lovely description and walked back into the room, looking left to see the cyborg standing patiently in the corner glaring at the prisoner. Nodding, Campbell grabbed a chair and sat across from the man. He was Asian, Campbell couldn’t tell whether he was Chinese or Korean though. What he could tell was that the man glared at him as if he was trying to decide whether or not to kill him quickly or painfully.

 

“I’m Capt. Campbell, 4th Expeditionary Combat Brigade.” He watched for a reaction and kept talking when none came. “I’m presuming you have a name of your own?” More silence. “You know, where I’m from, conversations are a two-way street. It’s considered rude to not interact when someone else talks to you.”

 

The man just kept glaring at Campbell, not giving anything away except a bitter anger and a clear desire to escape. Campbell sighed and looked to Genji. “Has he said anything since you brought him in?”

 

“Not a single word,” Genji said, voice modified behind his faceplate. “He is like a stone, unyielding and enduring through all weathering.”

 

“Well he hasn’t met EU intelligence,” Campbell said, remembering his own experience. Ever since the integration of militaries they’d managed to make the legendary S.A.S. Resistance to Interrogation training program _worse_. “Listen, I’m trying to do you a favor and get you to tell me what you know. If you do that, I promise on my word that I’ll make sure they treat you properly.”

 

The man kept staring into Campbell, glaring at the captain with a nationalism unseen outside of the PAC.  Campbell sighed, getting up and leaving the room. “Genji, keep an eye on him. I’ll try to bring Mercy up and have her look him over before intelligence arrives.”

 

“I will make sure he remains here.”

 

Leaving the cyborg on guard, Campbell walked back out and shut the door securely behind him. “Has command determined when they’ll have a team here to collect him?”

 

“Two days sir,” Kavanaugh said. “Of course, given the timing of things-”

 

Campbell looked to Pharah. “You need to stay here, keep him under guard and make sure he can’t be rescued. Once the assault starts I need to know that you won’t let him go with the PAC forces if this position is overrun.”

 

“I’ll take personal responsibility,” Pharah said. “If we have to fall back, I’ll make sure he’s with me.”

 

Campbell didn’t think Pharah realized what he meant, but the nod from Kavanaugh reassured him. “Good enough for me.”

* * *

Maj. Chan looked up from her screen aboard the bridge. “Sir, commando detachment 3-1 hasn’t checked in for an hour.”

 

Vladomirovic raised an eyebrow. “Interference?”

 

Chan shook her head. “Only normal atmospheric and solar conditions sir.”

 

Vladomirovic nodded. “Contact still maintained with the forward command at Sharhr Urmia?”

 

Chan sent a data message and nodded after a minute. “They just reported the loss in communication too sir, they’re awaiting orders.”

 

“The EU have struck them,” Choi said quietly at Vladomirovic’s side. “There can be no doubt now, they are prepared for our arrival if they’ve taken out our forward scouts.”

 

Vladomirovic brought up his tactical map of the operation area. “ _The main point of contention for the EU would be the crossroads,”_ he thought, eyeing the display carefully. “ _Their tactical procedure will dictate that the refinery be held for when the battle is over as well. If they know I’m coming, they have already positioned forces at the westernmost checkpoint too. Which leaves one position bereft of manpower._ ”

 

“I want a new order written up major,” Vladomirovic said. “Ensure all company commanders respond back to their superiors when they receive it.”

 

Chan smiled as she waited for the general’s orders to come forth. “Already included sir.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 

McCree lazed on his back as the sun rose, listening to one of the squads at the checkpoint perform some PT before the sun could fully rise. “Think those fellas want to die tired?”

 

Zenyatta floated several feet away, facing the oncoming sun. “Is physical fitness not a necessary part of being in a military? Omnics are required to maintain their physical maintenance where they are allowed to serve.”

 

“Please,” McCree said with a laugh. “Military fitness? It’s a joke. Hell, I’ve seen plenty of fat sergeants in my time, but they know how to game the system and pass those tests without even breaking a sweat. Literally.” Tapping off his cigar, the bounty hunter sighed and sat up. “Damn, last one too.” Rising up off his back, McCree leaned over the edge of the shelter. “Hey, any of you got some cigarettes?”

 

One of the troopers doing PT looked up in disbelief. “You mean with tobacco?” The troopers around him laughed. “There hasn’t been any real tobacco in Europe for seventy years.”

 

McCree’s face fell. “You mean…No, no you mean all any of you have are those dumb e-things!” McCree fell onto his back and stared at the morning skies. “Zeny, is there a hell for you? Because I think I found it.”

 

Before Zenyatta could answer, alarms started to blare around the checkpoint.

* * *

Campbell rushed outside of the gas station and dove back inside as a PAC gunship strafed the position.  Looking back, he saw three troopers run through, their blood and organs staining the sands behind them. Grabbing his binoculars he scanned the east and saw several dozen more on the way. Worse, he heard the boom. His mind only registered that they were PAC supersonics by the time they were already gone from sight. Troopers were already rushing to their positions, guns up as missiles from the walkers at the crossroads streaked skyward at the oncoming gunships and transports. “All teams, PAC assault has commenced, status report!”

 

“ _Team four, headquarters is secured._ ”

 

“ _Team two, we’ve got gunships on our position and are taking fire, prisoner is still secured!_ ”

 

“ _Team three, holding position and have no enemy contacts._ ”

 

Campbell ducked down as another gunship strafed the position. One of the walkers traversed its machine gun and opened up, sparks erupting along the side of the gunship. The pilot quickly veered away, but Campbell’s grin died as three more took the place of their comrade. “Oh Christ, this is gonna be a long day.”

* * *

Vladomirovic watched the plan unfold on his console on the titan’s bridge. There was already a command center in the port facility used by the commandos, but he wasn’t a fool. If something went wrong he’d need to make sure he could retreat to Iranian airspace. The images were quickly updated, down to the millisecond thanks to the proximity of the titan’s equipment. Five gunships circled the intersection gas station, one was pulling back for emergency repairs. Three were already harrying the refinery, and three more were moving to the West checkpoint. Two companies each were already moving for the refinery and West checkpoint with armor support. Three moved on the crossroads with a squadron of walkers. The three titans held back at the port, waiting. No need to risk any more titan losses in this engagement.

 

“All commanders report that assault in on-schedule sir.” Chan smiled as she turned to Vladomirovic. “First ground contact estimated in three minutes sir.”

 

Vladomirovic nodded, turning to Choi. “Can we expect enough time from the three forces for the plan to succeed?”

 

“Their commanders were informed of the price of failure,” Choi replied flatly. “We should accomplish all mission objectives by the end of the day.”

 

Vladomirovic smiled. It was time to begin the day.

* * *

The Type 32 Nekomata assault gun was designed to move faster than the A-8 could dream of, hovering above the battlefield on eight thrusters powered by a miniaturized fusion engine. It feared neither ice nor sand nor water, the only thing it did was the main gun of the Tiger thanks to the thin armor required to skim across terrain in the first place. The bonus was a fixed main gun just as powerful as the Tiger’s, and the ability to literally turn on a dime. If anyone had a dime anymore.

 

The A-8 was of a different design philosophy; power. A wide squat chassis to keep the monster from ever tipping over on, reactive armor to take hits, and a smoothbore main gun firing depleted uranium sabot rounds. The treads were less maintenance intensive too, compared to the complex thrusters of the 32. The downside was that the gunners had to be borderline-clairvoyant when it came to tracking their counterparts.

 

Shells shrieked overhead, whipping through the air like banshees. The ground under Kavanaugh shook as another hit just to the left of the position. Troopers scattered, unable to move from the air cover from the gunships. The EU aircraft were grounded, the lone attempt to support the refinery was laying three hundred yards to the rear in flames from supersonics patrolling the skies. “Genji, how’s our guest doing?”

 

“ _He is still here, and remains motionless._ ”

 

“Good, keep him that way!” Kavanaugh looked up as the gunships circled the refinery compound, then four rockets launched from behind one of the towers trailing the gunship. The pilot reacted too late, and the guidance in the rockets sent them straight for the center of the fuselage just before the main thruster. The blasts nearly sheered the tail from the main body, the craft spiraling down into one of the stacks.

 

Carter poked her head out from the second floor as the Tiger at the nearest gate fired on the on-rushing PAC armor. “Kavanaugh, I’ve got what look like at least a dozen APCs coming out way.”

 

Kavanaugh flipped himself onto his stomach and stared through the narrow gap between a small ridgeline and the bay. Looking out, he saw several tall, rectangular shapes speeding toward him. “Christ, they’re here. Everyone at the ready, they’re bringing in the conscripts!”

 

The Romanov was built to act as a battle taxi when conscripts were involved, nothing more but probably far less. It was a continuous line; roll up, disgorge infantry waves, return to base. Repeat ad nauseum until the enemy runs out of rounds or you run out of bodies. Here the PAC were using the BTR-4-T model; no assault pods, just space you could jam full of conscripts to rush at the enemy. Exactly what was happening now as Pharah watched the APCs roll toward the narrow strip of road between a small ridge and an inlet to the bay towards the refinery.

 

Kavanaugh came over the radio. “ _Amari, get up and give us support now! Hit their armor from the top, see what damage you can do!_ ”

 

Pharah instantly triggered her boosters and jumped into the air, seeing twelve APCs rolling right for the refinery as a trio of hover-tanks skimmed sideways around the defenses. The trio of tanks ignored Pharah, their guns and anti-infantry turrets were focused on the gantries and guard points instead of her. Smiling, she flew at the column of APCs and fired three rockets at the lead vehicle. The first rocket impacted just ahead of the vehicle, throwing up sand and dirt but doing no damage. The second hit the side, leaving a black scar across the side and rocking the transport. The third scored home, landing directly on the front of the APC and sending it careening sideways. The wheels cut the turn sharply, and sent the lead rolling onto Its side into the sand. The second and third APCs collided with the disabled lead, the rest halted and trying to back up and turn around. Pharah let herself grin before going after them.

 

“What is that thing, a drone?” The driver of the fourth Romanov cut the wheel hard to the right in reverse, trying to go around the ridge to the rear of the refinery. The gunner didn’t answer, she just opened fire.

 

Pharah ducked and wove through the rounds, several striking off his armor but doing little damage. The adrenaline kept her from feeling the hits, but she did know that there’d be bruises when all was said and done. Raising her concussion missile at the fourth APC, she watched it strike dead center in the front again, the machine gun stopping as the remaining APCs tried to fire back on her. Satisfied that she’d done enough to halt the advance, Pharah dropped to the ground and started running back to her position. “Kavanaugh, I’ve stopped the transports from getting any closer to our position.”

 

Kavanaugh’s response was nearly overwhelmed by the sound of heavy guns in the background. “ _That’s bloody lovely, now help us turn these damned gunships into scrap!_ ”

* * *

McCree fired again at the onrushing APCs, and ducked his head as the enemy guns raked the roof. Zenyatta kept sending his orbs at the vehicles with little effect. “It appears the enemy armor is too well-designed for us to do any appreciable damage.”

 

McCree rolled his eyes. “Well, you can’t be saying that's wrong.” Poking his head up, he saw the APCs letting loose their cargo of conscripts. These men were different from what McCree saw from the intel pictures when he’d arrived. These men were barely armored compared to the pictures of PAC commando, carrying what looked like AK knockoffs and spraying wildly into the EU positions. Hover-tanks circled the position, as three gunships rained down fire. The single walker the EU had tried to counter them all, gunning down conscripts and firing missiles at the T-32s as it’s mounted MG tried to shoot down the gunships with the help of the pair of anti-air emplacements set up days before. One of said gunships was bearing down on their rooftop position, guns firing.

 

“Off the roof!” McCree threw Zenyatta over the side, jumping off himself and rolling as he hit the ground. The move rocked him but not enough to take him out of the fight. Shaking out the cobwebs, he looked around to see shipping containers under the shelters and pulled Zenyatta behind them.

 

Weber ducked behind the nearest wall to reload her Baur as Forsythe laid down grazing fire with his Ganz. Both weapons were heavier than the standard EU kits, firing a larger tungsten-core round with heavier stopping power that didn’t lose accuracy. Better for Weber, the Baur was a more stable platform when used properly, allowing her to keep the charging enemies at a range for some time during the first few minutes. “Can’t either one of you do anything? I thought you were some kind of special commandos.”

 

“We ain’t used to taking on this many at once,” McCree shouted, Zenyatta’s face mismatched with the chaos around him. “Can’t you use that big bot to stomp a few of them?”

 

“If that bot steps out of the compound it’s a sitting duck for PAC anti-armor,” Forsythe shouted back. “Concentrate on the conscripts, they’re the ones trying to overwhelm us right now!”

 

McCree scowled, reloading his Peacekeeper and stepping out from around the container. He lined up his shots, the wind blowing his poncho aside as he picked six and-

 

Shots impacted everywhere around his feet, and pinged off his prosthetic arm. Shouting out, he fired off six wild shots before ducking back behind cover. “See? Too many of’em, I can’t get a damn good shot off.”

 

Weber shook her head and leaned around the corner to fire off a rocket from her Baur. It hit in a squad of conscripts, sending seven of them screaming away or dropping them dead. “That’s how you fire a shot, you don’t expose yourself like a flasher.”

 

Zenyatta gave the idea a try, hiding half his body behind cover as he used his right hand to throw orbs at the conscripts. The projectiles slammed into the men, several dropping before they got wise and dropped to the sand. “I appear to have trouble using my full combat ability for this task.”

 

Forsythe groaned. “Our luck to have the two most useless ones here.”

 

“Shut up and keep firing.” Weber punctuated her statement by dropping three more conscripts on semi-auto.

* * *

O’Neill peeked out and fired another burst, catching a conscript in the chest and dropping him onto a buddy as the railgun emplacement fired another shot at a hover-tank. The shot sailed past, but struck an onrushing APC dead-center. O’Neill didn’t want to think about what the force of the round speeding through did to the dozens of conscripts inside. “How long can we hold out?”

 

Campbell waited until the walkers took breaks firing their chain guns at the PAC conscripts. “Not sure sir. The main body of commandos haven’t struck yet and it's not like the PAC to send a single wave at us, I should’ve heard from one of the other positions by now.” Poking his head up, Campbell pulled a grenade and threw, the booming reverberating even behind cover. “As long as we have the walkers and at least one railgun we should be able to hold.”

 

Pulling out his personal, Campbell hid behind cover and checked the flow of the battle. “ _Three gunships over the refinery, three here, two at the west checkpoint. BTRs rushing conscripts, 32s harrying the positions, but where are the commando units and type 39s? If they wanted the crossroads-_ ”

 

There was a blip on the top edge of the map. A red dot that soon transformed into the shape of a gunship. Then two. Then four. Suddenly a dozen dots behind them that turned into transports. Followed by six dots that became tanks, and a dozen dots that became APCs. “ _No, no he can’t be!_ ”

* * *

Reinhardt stared into the distance as the battle raged. The echo of explosions, the knowledge that his friends were fighting for their lives at the refinery, the crossroads, the west checkpoint. “ _I shouldn’t be here playing nursemaid,_ ” he thought bitterly. “ _A crusader belongs on the front protecting others. I should be shielding them, not waiting to be called._ ”

 

Durand looked at the same distance and felt relief. His wife would kill him if he didn’t come home alive. At least they were well and truly dug in in the right direction-

 

Sirens and klaxons started to sound, and the radio net came alive. “ _Incoming PAC air assault to the rear of the base. All personnel, proceed to primary defensive positions._ ”

 

Reinhardt laughed, jumping up and running to the motor pool. Brigitte was already there, waiting to help the crusader into his armor. Vehicle crews ran around them as well, tanks and walked powering up and striding out into battle. Gun crews traversed, scanning the ground and skies for their targets.

 

“ _They’re coming for the base,_ ” Durand radioed. “ _Reinhardt, Brigitte, stay inside the perimeter and we’ll meet with you both. Say again, hold positions until ordered to move._ ”

 

Reinhardt cursed as Brigitte strapped on the backpiece of the armor. “Gah! Don’t these people realize what this is? I was meant to fight, not to wait for the fight like some simpering coward.”

 

“ _You’ll follow orders, now standby._ ”

 

Reinhardt growled as Brigitte helped him suit up. “Doesn’t he understand that I’m meant to be in the thick of combat? This is an outrage, what does he expect me to do if not charge into the thick of battle with my fellow soldiers!”

 

“I’m sure they have their reasons,” Brigitte said, hoisting up the armor’s right arm. “This isn’t an omnic attack or a bunch of bandits, we have to listen to them.”

 

Reinhardt scowled as he put on his helmet. He had served in combat, he knew how a battle worked. He knew, for certain, that his shield and armor would be useful on the front against these PAC forces. Why he could cover two fighting positions as they fired on the enemy.

 

“Alright, you’re all set.”

 

Watching as his suit’s HUD activated and showed each system powering up, Reinhardt ran through the motions. Flex hands and fingers: Green. Move arm joints: Green. Move leg joints: Green. Test connections to jet booster: Green. Test connections to hammer boosters: Green. Standing tall, Reinhardt marched his armor out as the Tigers and Riesigs strolled onto the battlefield.

 

“ _Team four, put yourselves inside the perimeter,_ ” Durand ordered. Reinhardt watched as the team spread out through the interior, taking positions on the rooftops as several tanks rolled out to the rear of the base and sped east with three APCs behind them. Three walkers sat inside the perimeter, as ground crews did their best to remove anything valuable from three grounded VTOL craft.

 

“ _Alright, standard assault drill, nothing fancy today._ ” Durand paused. “ _Nothing too fancy from our end. Reinhardt, I want you between the office and the warehouse. Brigitte, what are you armed with?_ ”

 

“ _I’ve got my flail_ -”

 

“ _Not happening. Get up here and take one of our pistols._ ”

 

“Don’t doubt her abilities,” Reinhardt barked. “She’s fought enough battles to know how to use her weapon.”

 

“ _It’s bad enough you’re fighting with a fucking hammer,_ ” Durand rebuked. “ _I don’t need someone with a smaller shield and lighter armor taking on commandos with a weapon that died with chivalry. Get up here and get a gun._ ”

 

Reinhardt looked down and saw confliction on Brigitte’s face. All he could do was give her a nod and watch as she bounded up the stairs to the roof of the offices.

 

“ _All forces, this is Col. Pichler,_ ” the commander said over the radio. “ _Sitrep on current situation now._ ”

 

“ _This is F Company, we’re closing on the landing and will hold as long as possible._ ”

 

“ _Lt. Kowalski, walker detachment is in position around the camp._ ”

 

“ _This is Capt. Jansen, infantry company has the camp perimeter secured._ ”

 

“ _This is Cpl. Durand, 1 st Recon is positioned on the office and warehouse, holding for commando drop._”

 

“ _Very good. I want all forces to hold position for as long as possible, I’ve made the call and reinforcements will be here within the hour, supersonics are already en route._ ”

 

Tracer rounds started to fire from the perimeter and following them Reinhardt saw a shifting group of dots closing on the base. Missiles trailed from the AA emplacements, the smaller dots dodging and weaving as the larger ones slowly formed into troop transports.

 

The Doragons did what they were designed to do; distract and destroy. All possible weapons were trained on the gunships as they rained rockets down on the EU position. The sleek designs spun about with each pass, EU troopers ducking behind any cover they could find. One of the gunships launched something from the wing, and Reinhardt watched as the missile tracked home on and destroyed one of the VTOLs waiting inside the base. “Corporal, can’t you shoot them down?”

 

“ _The PAC invested in some good electronic countermeasures to our own missiles,_ ” Durand radioed. “ _And you’re armed with a fucking hammer so maybe shut up about how we’re doing._ ” He decided to keep that thought to himself.

 

Reinhardt looked back and saw the more square shapes of the transports screaming over the base. “ _Good, at least I’ll be able to take those monsters out before they can offload their troops._ ”

 

The BTR-20 Yastreb was not wholly dissimilar to the transports of ages past. It carried troops into battle and supported them with two cannons mounted to the side to cover disembarking forces. The four jets mounted underneath allowed for omni-directional maneuvering, allowing for an unprecedentedly agile transport compared to what the EU had faced before. Worse, it had a brilliant design feature for air assaults.

 

It didn’t need to land to offload the passengers.

 

As Reinhardt watched, six pods launched from each transport, their guns still firing as each pod landed inside the perimeter. As Reinhardt watched, several of the pods slammed into EU troopers pinned down by fire. One unlucky troopers had only his head crushed, Reinhardt knowing it was just cruelty on the part of the commando inside.

 

The pods burst open, and the commandos sprinted for the nearest cover they could find. As Reinhardt watched he saw one commando sprint for cover, firing into an EU trooper behind a shipping container and taking cover behind the body before gunfire raked his position. Watching the body of the young trooper, blood staining the sand as the VTOL burned behind him, made Reinhardt’s very bones burn from the heat of his blood in his veins. He leaned over, warmed up his jet-

 

Heavy guns raked his position. Activating his shield he looked up to the sky to see one of the gunships firing on him with a quad-gun turret on the nose. At first the shield held, but then the aircraft started firing rockets and the shield broke. Rounds pinged across his armor, and Reinhardt kept trying to think of a way to take the gunship out.

 

Teal’c solved the problem for him, firing off several blasts at the gunship before it could strike. The blasts struck the canopy and sides, driving the craft off before it could kill Reinhardt. Rushing out from the offices, Teal’c took a position behind the nearest all. “Are you unharmed Reinhardt?”

 

“I’m fine,” Reinhardt said, taking a breath as small arms fire kept peppering his armor. “Just angry. Corporal, where are my targets!”

 

“ _Well there’s commandos all through the base,_ ” Durand shouted. “ _Teal’c, get inside and guard the colonel. Reinhardt, go hunting._ ”

 

Reinhardt laughed, activating his jet and launching himself forward into several shipping containers. Teal’c watched as the massive rectangles went flying, followed by the shaking earth as a massive jet-assisted hammer came down. “Are you sure this was wise corporal?”

 

“ _No, but it’ll keep the commando occupied,_ ” Durand answered. “ _Get inside now, keep the colonel safe!_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 

Vladomirovic watched the battle proceed on his console. Between the commando strike on the EU headquarters and the conscripts pushing on the three EU outposts the modified plan was proceeding as expected. Granted, there were heavier losses than anticipated by the conscripts, but from the footage coming in they were getting excellent intelligence on the new EU systems.

 

“Incredible,” Vladomirovic whispered, watching a live feed of the systems being used at the refinery. “Personal flight-capable battle armor. It must be run via electric batteries; the question is how they integrated the lithium reserves into the suit.”

 

“And this other one,” Choi said, as the camera showed what looked like a young woman with a device strapped to her chest. “It may be some kind of volumetric projection, capable of disorienting our forces and making us think that a Westerner is somehow in the wrong position as they move.”

 

Vladomirovic nodded. “Casualty report major?”

 

“So far the conscripts are losing their initiative,” Chan said from below. “The commandos aren’t reporting serious losses yet, but they are reporting that they’ve faced the larger battle armor reported when we set off.”

 

“Tell them to destroy it if practical,” Vladomirovic said firmly. “Are our walkers in position?”

 

“Waiting for your word sir.”

 

Vladomirovic read the situation and nodded. “Send in our second wave accompanied by the walkers, tell all commanders to prepare to a single EMP strike on each of their positions. They are to press their assault on the West checkpoint and refinery, make it clear that they must push the EU back to this storage area before their headquarters.”

 

Choi grinned, but Chan looked to her leader in surprise. “Not to their headquarters sir?”

 

Vladomirovic nodded. “By now their reinforcements are already en route, their supersonics will arrive in roughly thirty minutes by my estimates and their previous response times. We will not be able to hold this position, but we can deny the EU their forces. Ensure that we have as much information on these new systems as possible. Still no sightings or fireballs or swords?” Choi’s face screwed up as he realized that yes, that had just been said by his commander.

 

“None yet sir,” Chan said, turning back to the live feeds from the battle. “It’s possible they’re holding those in reserve.”

 

“Well for now we go for the _coup de grâce_. Have the second wave and walkers moving now.”

* * *

Pharah landed behind cover, another EMP mine detonating and sending a second T-32 crashing to the ground. Seconds later a quartet of rockets slammed into the gun casement, destroying the tank and killing anyone inside. Tossing out her empty clip, Pharah reached for her left side and pulled out another clip of six rockets. Then she realized something that had never happened before. “Major, I’m almost out of rockets.”

 

Carter was firing from the second floor of the offices, ducking back inside to reload as she radioed back. “ _You can still use conventional firearms right?_ ”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“ _You can grab a weapon from one of the bodies,_ ” Kavanaugh shouted. “ _Just keep them from-APCs from the rear! Pharah, Tracer, keep them off us!_ ”

 

Pharah soared up, turning to see Tracer already blinking to the rear of the position. She also saw one of the tanks repositioning, pulling back from it’s earthen bunker to react to the threat. There were only three of the behemoths left. One was burning at the front of the refinery, the other had been abandoned after it’s gun had been destroyed by a gunship. Landing next to the tank, Pharah watched as a squad watched the distance as five APCs rolled forward flanked by two T-32s.

 

“Oi, rocket girl!” The tank commander poked his head out of the turret as his steel mount opened fire. “See if you can’t get behind them, catch them in a vice so we can crush their bollocks!”

 

Pharah nodded, turning to see Tracer blinking up to her. “We need to get behind them. If you can plant an explosive on one of the tanks without getting shot, do it.” Reaching onto her waist, Pharah loaded her last concussive rocket and stared to the onrushing attack. “Remember, we’re here to help them.”

 

“You can count on me,” Tracer said with a laugh. “C’mon, let’s show’em who they’re messing with.”

 

Pharah nodded, blasting into the air and surveying the scene ahead. A wedge of five APCs, two assault guns on the flanks. Fire was already coming from the EU position, distracting from Tracer’s move to the right. Swooping low, Pharah raised her left arm and fired at the lead APC. The rocket was a direct hit, sending the transport careening to the left and into another. Pharah watched as both ground to a halt, the one she hit tumbling onto it’s side like a toy as the farthest APC to the left kept moving forward. The 32 hovering near them slowed though, giving Tracer her opening. Blinking over she slammed her bomb onto the tank, then rewound herself back to the EU lines. The blast ripped open the vehicle, sending the left side into the dirt as the right kept trying to keep the vehicle aloft.

 

Pharah kept her focus on the two downed APCs, and the conscripts streaming out. She launched one, two, three rockets their way. The blast sent men flying, the conscripts firing desperately up at her to try and drive her back. Pharah didn’t need a stray round ending her day, and she dove back to the EU position to the rear. “That enough breathing room?”

 

“ _More than enough ,_” the tank commander radioed. “ _We can hold them here, I’ll call if I need you._ ”

 

Pharah nodded, looking over to see Tracer laughing as she fired on the onrushing APCs and their freshly disgorged conscripts. “It’s like they want to get shot, these lads are off their heads.”

 

An EU trooper in a fighting hole looked at Tracer with disgust. “Are you fucking laughing? What the hell is wrong with you!”

 

“She’s just crazy,” Pharah said. “C’mon Tracer, we need to get back to the front.”

 

As Tracer followed Pharah, she looked back to see the EU troopers firing into the mass of conscripts. The tank roared, the shot sailing past the T-32 and hitting the middle of a group of conscripts huddling for cover. As the limbs flew and men screamed, Tracer’s smile disappeared.

 

“ _I’m not fighting omnics,_ ” she remembered. “ _God, I hate fighting people._ ”

 

Capt. Campbell broke over the radio. “ _All teams, sitreps now!_ ”

 

“ _Team three, we’re being surrounded and are in danger of being overrun. The captain here has requested permission to pull back._ ”

 

“ _Team two, we’ve got them held at the refinery but we don’t know for how much longer._ ”

 

“ _Team four, we have PAC commando inside the perimeter and a landing to the east. We’ve just confirmed that reinforcements are en route, supersonics will be here in roughly thirty._ ”

 

Campbell checked his personal, seeing the last thing he needed to. If the satellites weren’t being spoofed, then there was a second wave rushing the positions. “Alright, it looks like there’s a second wave rushing on us from the port. I want all of you ready to move back to the storage area, I want full accountability before and after you move.”

 

An explosion to his rear turned Campbell around to see a fresh crater in one of the three gas tanks standing above the station. “ _Great, there goes the last of the launchers._ ” One of the walkers had already been taken down from the weight of the enemy fire, the other had run out of rockets and had lost its anti-air turret and had been forced to pull back.

 

O’Neill reloaded his ancient P90 and peeked out from behind the fence. “I guess we hold until everyone else has pulled back?”

 

“Weber’s team will be the first to fall back,” Campbell said. “Once they secure the storage yard we can fall back and hold while the refinery retreats. All that matters is that we hold the forward base until reinforcements arrive.”

 

Both men ducked as rounds traced to their left. Looking up, O’Neill lined up and fired at a trio of onrushing conscripts. “Better be fast, I think their officers are trying to not get shot.”

* * *

Daniel fired from inside pre-fab building, listening as the captain shouted into a radio in his thick Norwegian accent. “Say again, we cannot hold position…We’re requesting permission to fall back to the storage yards…Yes sir…Yes, right away, out.”

 

Daniel fired off a burst and ducked down as what felt like seven different rifles fired back to answer him. “I guess we’re falling back now?”

 

The captain nodded and tapped his radioman. “I want all squads ready to move in five, we’re rushing over the bridge and falling back to the storage area. Tell the walker I want them to clear our path.”

 

Daniel grabbed his own radio. “Sergeant, we’re moving in five, is everyone alright?”

 

Weber waited for the fire to die down a little before she popped up and fired off at a group of conscripts across the bridge. “Everyone’s still alive here Dr. Jackson, we’ll be ready to move.” Ducking back down, she pointed to Becker and Gantz. “Both of you get to the Badger, get it ready to move and up at the bunker in three minutes.”

 

The two jumped up and started sprinting. “Three minutes she says,” Becker grumbled as the fire from the PAC kept raking the sand around them. “Did I miss the part where we clear the bridge?”

 

Gantz jumped onto the APC and started clambering into the gunner’s seat. “Just get in the damn engine running!”

 

As the APC warmed up, McCree dumped another six empty shells from his Peacekeeper and loaded six fresh rounds. “This fight better wrap up soon, I’m almost out of bullets.”

 

Forsythe popped up and fired off several more rounds. “I swear, do you understand how long a fight can last?”

 

“I too believe I will be unable to maintain my combat efficiency,” Zenyatta said. “Three of my orbs have been damaged by fire from the PAC forces.”

 

Weber looked around the bunker and saw a dead trooper at the foot of the stairs. Bounding down, she grabbed his rifle and ran back up to shove it into Zenyatta’s hands. “Less orbs, more bullets.” Zenyatta stared at the weapon, holding it out in front of himself with one hand and firing. The recoil sent the weapon up, Weber grabbing it away before it could go anywhere dangerous. “Nevermind, stick to the orbs.”

 

“Oh, thanks for giving me the same consideration,” McCree said, fumbling with an SMG that Forsythe had given to him. “Juts let me loose here, I can-“

 

“Run out and get yourself shot.” Forsythe popped up and fired a burst. “Round the team up sergeant?”

 

Weber gave a nod. “Get everyone aboard, I’ll get on last.”

 

Forsythe nodded, slinging his weapon over his shoulder and pulling McCree and Zenyatta toward the APC. Sure that they were safely inside the APC, the trooper made a break for the pre-fab to grab Dr. Jackson. Ducking down as he felt several rounds fly by and pepper the ground around his feet, he let the two troopers positioned near the door cover him before he ran the rest of the distance to the interior.

 

Dr. Jackson stood inside near a window, firing back against the conscripts trying to pin them down from the south. “Dr. Jackson, we’re loading up! C’mon now, can’t keep the captain waiting.”

 

Jackson looked to the captain in charge of the position, and getting a nod followed Forsythe to the APC. As the two ran off, the captain grabbed his radioman. “Get the walker, tell them I want that bridge cleared and tell all our people that if they aren’t over it they’re left behind.”

 

Weber fired off another burst as she heard the engines revving around her. Looking back, she watched as several APCs and light vehicles started to turn onto the sandy road running through the checkpoint. That was when the walker started to storm through.

 

The L-5 Riesig walker was designed for durability, to take hits and keep moving. Two miniguns were mounted on the left and right sides of the turret, and both tore through the conscript company across the bridge. Several of the more “capable” conscripts tried to fire off modernized RPGs, but they either missed completely or hit as a glancing blow. The Riesig returned the favor by raking its heavy chain guns over the APCs. Any screams were immediately drowned out by a mix of the gunfire and the walker storming across the bridge. The cue to move was when several rockets launched by the walker hit across the line of APCs waiting at the other end of the bridge.

 

Weber took the chance, rushing out from the bunker and sprinting into the APC. “All accounted for?” Forsythe gave a thumbs up. “Captain, we’re moving to the storage yard now with all accounted for.”

 

As they drove out of the checkpoint, Daniel tried not to think about all the bumps they ran over on the way out of the checkpoint.

* * *

Campbell watched as the last remaining walker slowly walked backwards to the final defensive line. Looking back, he saw the dust cloud from the vehicles rushing away from the checkpoint. “I have visuals on forces moving to the storage area from the west checkpoint.”

 

The captain commanding the gas crossroads radioed back instantly. “ _Give them fifteen minutes to get into position, I’ll radio the refinery and tell them to get moving. Have your team ready to move then._ ”

 

“Aye sir.” Campbell quickly reloaded his rifle, watching as another railgun round ripped through another APC. By now the PAC were down to two still-functioning APCs, a few dozen conscripts, and a single T-32 still harrying the position. “ _Can’t move with that bastard still harrying us,_ ” Campbell though, watching as the assault gun skimmed sideways across the firing arc of the last railgun position. Campbell knew that it was an either or shot for the position. Either they struck home and sent a screaming metal rod of death through the PAC vehicles, or they compensated for where they though the armor would be, miss…

 

The T-32 fired, shot sailing over the position and exploding and exploding too close inside the perimeter. Still, it wasn’t time to break them out. Not until they had no choice but to move and the headquarters told them they were getting desperate. He was just a captain, he didn’t get to make those calls if other orders told him otherwise. Or his people were getting slaughtered.

 

There was another scream, followed by Mercy shouting out that she was coming and floating down from the gas station roof. Looking back, Campbell saw her float down and quickly activate her staff, healing the injured trooper as two more man dragged him back. All Mercy had done was stop the bleeding, Campbell doubted her magical staff would regrow the missing leg.

 

O’Neill reloaded and peered across the battlefield. “How long until that second wave arrives?”

 

Campbell checked his HUD and swore. “They’ll want to keep pace with their walker support, I’d say twenty minutes.”

 

Rounds kept flying overhead, and O’Neill tried to almost merge with the sand just to get that inch more of cover. “Will they try to box us in at the camp?”

 

“No, Vladomirovic knows that if we’re cornered we’ll fight harder for it.” Campbell popped up and fired another burst. “He’ll try to wear us down with the conscripts as his commandos wreck the base. Is Teal’c good at keep people safe?”

 

O’Neill rolled onto his stomach and fired off a burst. “Oh, he’s had his moments.”

* * *

Teal’c fired off a staff blast at a PAC position, but had to pull back as Reinhardt charged through swinging wildly at any target he could see. As Teal’c watched, a modular shipping container went flying across the compound and slammed into what looked like a control hut. “Was that structure vital?”

 

The colonel swore. “Reinhardt, stop swinging like a you’re cutting down trees, you just took out our UAV control station!”

 

 Teal’c went back to staring out at the compound. Between commandos appearing and firing from positions across the camp and the EU troopers trying to contain them, the compound was a maze of fire you couldn’t take five steps into the camp without catching seven dozen rounds in three seconds. Reinhardt’s armor was the only thing that could stand against it, rounds bouncing off the armor in bright sparks. Reinhardt backed away, putting up his shield again and moving for the offices.

 

“He is not effective at close-quarter combat,” Teal’c stated to anyone listening. “We will need those reinforcements before he is overwhelmed.”

 

Durand came over the radio. “ _Galahad, get back to the offices before they start taking fire!_ ”

 

Reinhardt started to edge back faster, keeping and PAC rounds off the offices. “Corporal, should I proceed outside?”

 

“ _No, even with that thing in your gut you won’t last a minute. Stay inside and guard the colonel._ ”

 

Teal’c kept watching the exterior, teams of EU troopers and PAC commandos rushing about in pairs and trios trying to wrest control from each other. He watched through the slanted blinds as a commando was riddled at close range by a trooper with a SMG, as another commando atop a nearby watchtower kicked an EU trooper to the ground twenty feet below. A trooper and a commando were busy grappling with each other, until the trooper kicked the commando away, drew his sidearm and pumped the commando full of rounds.

 

Atop the roof, Durand kept his head on a swivel through the compound. The AA positions had to be defended from the commandos, otherwise the gunships would swoop down and finish the assault. Right now they were down to two, one on the office and one on the warehouse. At the very least, they could keep theirs safe.

 

Durand bit back a snide remark as he saw Brigitte fire the pistol she’d been given one-handed. “Aim down the sight, the sight woman!”

 

“I’ve never used a gun before,” Brigitte shouted from behind her shield. “This is all a little new to me!”

 

Durand groaned. “ _Sure, give the ones that are actually useful to the other positions. I get the senile knight and his dumb loyal squire!_ ”

 

Another pass by a gunship forced everyone down, blasting apart a second VTOL on the pads. Durand poked his head over the edge of the office rooftop, firing a rocket at a pair of troopers trying to run to the office. Satisfied that no one else would try something so stupid, he went back to scanning the center for anyone moving around the perimeter.

 

Teal’c heard it, an electronic whine above the chaos of the battle outside. Scanning the room, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Troopers were firing out the windows, manning the radios-

 

One of the radiomen fell forward without anything pushing him. Before the man could turn Teal’c was already swinging his staff, knocking a shape into the nearest wall. The colonel looked up and saw Teal’c grabbing a suddenly-appearing figure of a PAC commando around the neck. In seconds the commando was in a blood choke, Teal’c opening his mouth and pulling out the fake molar. “I recommend placing an obstacle in the way of the door.”

 

The colonel nodded, seeing the pistol that the commando had been about to use on him laying on the floor. “Right, right, sergeant get that door barricaded!”

 

Satisfied that the situation was at least in hand for now, Teal’c looked back outside and saw Reinhardt swinging once more at several PAC commandos.

 

For his part, Reinhardt was growing increasingly frustrated as he kept swinging. The commandos kept themselves at a fair distance, just outside the reach of his swing. Roaring, Reinhardt brought his hammer down overhead, and grinned as he saw the ground shake from the impact.

 

That was when the explosives on his back detonated.

 

Brigitte froze watching the blast. “Reinhardt!”

 

Van der Burgh saw her start to run and tackled her. “No, what are you thinking! If you run out there you’ll get shot to pieces!”

 

Brigitte squirmed and struggled to get out from Van der Burgh’s grasp. “No, he’s hurt, we need to get to him!”

 

“And get yourself killed!” Van der Burgh pulled her back and sighted in on several commandos rushing Reinhardt. “That armor’s bulletproof right? Just start shooting and make sure you hit them!” Emphasizing the point, Van der Burgh started firing around Reinhardt and forced several commandos back.

 

Brigitte’s breathing started to speed up, the world around her focusing in on Reinhardt instead of the battle around her. It was strange, hearing the sounds but being unable to discern what they specifically were. She watched Reinhardt try desperately to pull himself up, only for another series of explosives to detonate around him. Every instinct was there to rush out and help him, but the continuing ricochets off the crusader’s armor told her that charging out would get her killed.

 

Van der Burgh solved her dilemma by firing off three bursts at the problem, clearing the PAC commandos away as Vogt and Ricci started pouring fire on a second later. Commandos ran for cover, Reinhardt able to pull himself back up and stagger back to the office. Extending her own shield, Brigitte ran down to survey the damage. “Reinhardt, how badly are you hurt?”

 

“I’m fine,” Reinhardt grunted, still being peppered by fire. “Is the back of my armor still functional?”

 

Looking over Reinhardt’s back, Brigitte shook her head. The majority of the armor had been stripped away, exposing several wires and rendering the jet useless. “The jet system is out, you’ll need to stay in a good position or else you’ll be outmaneuvered again.”

 

Reinhardt growled, watching as more EU troopers tried to hold the commandos in place.

 

Inside the offices, Col. Pichler radioed desperately to the armor at the landing. “Say again, are you sure the position cannot be held?”

 

“ _We’ve taken to much fire sir,_ ” the commander of the tanks radioed back. “ _They’re rolling up out of the water, I have to pull back to the headquarters._ ”

 

Pichler sighed, resisting the urge to just smash or throw something. It wouldn’t help, he needed to focus on the task. “Confirmed, fall back to the perimeter and hold. Cpl. Durand, status of the knight?”

 

“ _He’s lost his mobility sir, he can’t jet around anymore._ ”

 

Teal’c looked over and radioed. “Can he still utilize his hammer?”

 

“ _I don’t see how he can’t if he’s still alive._ ”

 

Pichler nodded to Teal’c. “Tell him to get in position at the rear gate behind one of the tanks, now!”

* * *

Genji stood stoic inside the office, watching the commando even as EU troopers ran for evacuation. Genji knew that to let this one slip from his sight for even a second was to invite failure. The prisoner knew the same, but did not budge. Even as stray rounds ripped through the only window, as the ground shook and warriors cried out in pain and anger, the young Shimada stared down at the prisoner without flinching.

 

Until Carter kicked in the door. “Genji, get the prisoner we need to get out of here!”

 

“Without delay Maj. Carter.” Hoisting the prisoner over his shoulder, Genji moved for the door to see the APCs and light vehicles loading their teams as the tanks positioned themselves to cover the retreat. The PAC gunships had apparently been driven off for now, though Genji had to imagine it was just to return to rearm for several more passes. Pharah landed, looking angry as she slung her launcher over her shoulder. “I’m out, I need a new weapon.”

 

Genji saw a discarded rifle and threw it to her. “Here, until we get to our destination.”

 

Kavanaugh waited at the rear of their APC, counting heads and they piled in. “Three, four, five, where’s Tracer?”

 

Genji handed the prisoner off to Russo and looked back into the refinery. “She is there, she is still firing on the enemy.”

 

Kavanaugh gaped at the sight and radioed. “Tracer, get your orange ass back here now before we leave without you!”

 

“Keep your helmet on, I’ll be back before you blink!” Still laughing, Tracer started to blink back to the APCs, until her chrono-stabilizer blinked out. The laughing stopped, and Tracer bolted for the cover of a burning EU light vehicle as a dozen guns trained on her. Reloading her weapons, Tracer put up both her pistols and fired at the conscripts closing in on her.

 

Kavanaugh blinked, watching as one of the APCs started rolling for the storage area. “What, what in the name of Mary is she doing?”

 

Carter knelt and started firing. “Her stabilizer, it needs to reset. She needs-”

 

“More time than we have,” Kavanaugh barked. Grabbing Russo, he heard the team covering him from behind as he raced for Tracer. Her saw the wave of black-clad conscripts surging forward, and far in the distance he saw his worst fear. The waddling stalking gait of the PAC walkers coming through the desert. Pushing his legs harder, Kavanaugh reached the wreck and popped up to fire his last clip of rockets at the line as Russo kept them pinned in place. The conscripts screamed, sand and limbs thrown in every direction. “Alright you idiot, move!”

 

The trio started running, bounding across the sand under cover from their APC and team two. “Lee, get moving now!”

 

The APC lurched forward, open rear door raking the sand as the fire poured from the back. Carter’s P90 filled the back with brass, the EU weapons were caseless. Russo reached the back first, kicking the shells away as he spun around and took a knee to fire back. Tracer reached the APC next, reaching back and grabbing Kavanaugh to help pull him in. Kavanaugh pulled back, bringing himself into the APC-

 

The pain. The pain ripped through his leg. For a second it felt like one massive wound, until his brain processed a split-second later that no, it was three separate wounds that hit the same exact second. His right leg stumbled, nearly pulling Tracer out of the APC as the team went to pull them both back inside.

 

The commando saw his chance as Genji reached to grab Tracer. Without even a grunt of shout he bounded from one of the seats over everyone trying to pull the two inside the APC. Pharah, overhead and still firing, saw the move. “ _Kavanaugh, should I-_ ”

 

“Forget him, just get to the storage area!” Hauling Kavanaugh in, Carter pulled him back until the door could safely close. “That’s an order Amari, get to the storage yard now!”

* * *

Campbell rushed out of the APC, meeting with the other teams in the center as Mercy ran to aid Kavanaugh. “Status?”

 

“Miracles sir, only one wounded.” Weber pointed to several locations on the map when Campbell pulled out his personal to review the new defenses. The tanks were positioned to the front and left, with the last two walkers positioned overlooking the forward edge of the base. “Status of the camp?”

 

“Barely managing the commandos and is gonna be hit with armor in about five minutes.” Stowing his personal, Campbell swore. “Where’s the UAV feed?”

 

“Went down about ten minutes past,” the captain from the west checkpoint said. “Bigger concern, those fools.”

 

Campbell followed the accusatory finger to McCree and Zenyatta, with the omnic noticeably missing several of the orbs he had around his neck and McCree looking noticeably irritated. “I take it they didn’t perform as expected?”

 

Kavanaugh shouted over as Mercy and a field medic tried to assist him. “They’re a bunch of idiots I wouldn’t trust with a pram!”

 

Campbell groaned, shaking his head as he checked the new positions. O’Neill poked his head in, pulling up his sunglasses. “Well, is it wrong of me to ask why they aren’t attacking yet?”

 

“They’re reforming the first wave of conscripts, they’ll be sent in ahead of the first.” Campbell knelt down and drew a map in the sand of the position. Drawing a rectangle for the storage yard, he put three x’s at the front and two to the side for the tanks, and two circles for the walkers. “Alright, they’ll send their strongest concentration of infantry with the walkers straight at us to the front. They’ll send several of their remaining tanks to our left and try to move to our rear.” Campbell drew a massive block to the front of the map and an arrow moving from the left to back of the yard. “Amari, do you have _any_ rockets left?”

 

Amari nodded, kneeling down to get a better look at the map. “I have enough for one more rocket barrage, but after that I’m spent.”

 

“Col. O’Neill?”

 

O’Neill shook his head. “We’re down to our last, if we don’t break them here we’re gonna have to bail or risk spilling everything.”

 

“I believe I can eliminate the enemy commander,” Genji said. “I must atone for my failure to keep the commando in our custody.”

 

“Not a chance, you’re not going on a suicide charge unless we’re truly desperate.” Campbell started to stand when he froze. “Hang on, how many bombs do we have left?”

 

“Tracer should have one left in her possession,” Pharah said. “What are you thinking?”

 

Campbell pointed to the map. “Every conscript formation has a single APC that remains with the company to control all actions and movements. It doesn’t have any kind of sign or distinguishing marks, but it will remain with the formation and never offload any troops. If we can plant a bomb on that vehicle, the conscripts will be demoralized and unable to move without further orders.”

 

Pharah nodded. “And the camp?”

 

“They’ll have to fight their battle until we’re sure the conscripts are driven back.” Campbell quickly scrubbed the sight away. “Sergeant, we’ll need the Pilum.” Weber nodded, going into one of the APCs to grab something as the teams started to move to position.

 

“Hey, does anyone have a revolver,” McCree shouted. “No point standing at the Alamo without a gun.”

 

Gantz scoffed as he checked her revolver and held it out to McCree. “Yes, when we need someone to stand in the open and get shot at we’ll call you.”

 

Campbell looked to McCree. “What’s he talking about?”

 

McCree shook his head. “Well I kinda tried to make a move and-”

 

O’Neill looked at McCree with an increasingly common expression of disbelief. “You tried to pull a Clint Eastwood in the middle of a battle?”

 

“You said these are conscripts right? Well I figured why not try to take out their officers while I had the chance.”

 

Pharah’s face lit up. “Colonel, I have an idea.”

 

“No, no more plans from anyone not wearing a uniform right now,” Campbell said, his annoyance finally edging into his voice. “If I want you all to be barely useful I’ll call for you.”

 

Pharah stepped in. “Sir, please, I believe that McCree’s plan may actually be valuable.”

 

Campbell visibly bit back a harsh remark. “Capt. Amari, unless you can somehow convince me that a cowboy with a six-gun is somehow going to take on an entire company of PAC conscripts with his trusty side iron, I don’t want to hear it.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Pharah said with a grin. “Those conscripts will be sent screaming away.”

* * *

The commander of the PAC armor accompanying the commando detachment sent to the mouth of the river near the rear of the EU camp smiled as the viewed the empty rear of the base through the cupola. The gunships were gone now, flying back to rearm before speeding back for the final strike on the last EU positions. The western tanks were running back for the base, as the commander's  32s kept pace with the APCs rolling along. As sure as the commander was of victory, he wasn’t stupid enough to risk their safety in case the EU infantry decided to get clever from the rooftops.

 

He laughed, watching as the EU tanks fired desperately at their advance. Shells rained about the column, the trio of remaining tanks positioning themselves at the gate to try and at least become a roadblock when they were destroyed. “All tanks, form up on me. We’ll take the lead and press through and clear the path for the APCs.”

 

As they sped closer, the commander thought he noticed something off about the positioning of the tanks. Was it their formation? No, no that wasn’t it. Were they more damaged than he’d thought? Again, no, and they certainly weren’t more capable than when they’d taken the beating at the landing.

 

Just as the commander rolled through the rear gate, he realized that they were too far back. But why?

 

Reinhardt roared as he brought his hammer down over his head, slamming a good ton of steel-titanium into the top of the first PAC assault gun. The top of the vehicle was barely armored at all and collapsed inward like a tin can under a boot. The thrusters flared before cutting out, the assault gun laying dead on the desert sand. Pulling his hammer back, Reinhardt watched as the three Tigers kept the fire up and let himself smile. Now the PAC commandos would have to rush to the front of the base to try and break inside, wasting time and running another gauntlet of fire from the walkers.

 

At least, that’s what Reinhardt had thought before several infantry squads rushed in and used the fallen T-32 as cover. Roaring, Reinhardt started swinging again, even gripping the crushed assault gun and tossing it about to try and force the infantry out of cover. The commandos responded by almost scurrying through the oil tanks, the remaining T-32s pouring shells through the gate. “Brigitte, the commandos are loose in the fuel tanks! I need your assistance quickly.”

 

Brigitte fired off the second to last clip she had, ducking down and reloading. “I’m coming Reinhardt, I just need to reload.”

 

Durand groaned, smacking his personal as if it would somehow cause a miracle. “Damn thing! Without the UAVs we’re practically blind.”

 

Brigitte loaded her last clip with a nervous face. “How much longer until the fighters are here?”

 

“Eleven minutes,” Durand shouted. “So I’d just shut up and keep shooting until I tell you otherwise.”

 

Brigitte shook her head. “No, this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.”

 

“I don’t give a damn, just keep shooting!”

 

Brigitte tried to steel herself, raising the revolver again and firing at a commando under cover behind one of the thrown shipping containers. None of her rounds connected, but then the commando went down anyway. Watching the body, Brigitte shook her head. Another dead body in a compound full of dead bodies. It wasn’t a problem, wasn’t something that should get to her.

 

But there it was.

* * *

Campbell watched through his binoculars as the conscript force reformed in the distance. A dozen APCs and infantry platoons formed up behind a quintet of PAC Bogatyrs. “Alright, they’re about to move. You’re sure this plan’s going to work?”

 

“Not in the least,” Pharah said flatly. “As long as you can destroy those walkers, we can stand a chance at driving off the conscripts.”

 

O’Neill lowered his own binoculars. “Well, unless someone can just whip up a sandstorm out of thin air we don’t have many options.”

 

Campbell nodded. “Wait until they reach at least three hundred meters, then take action.” Bringing his binoculars back up, he watched as the Bogatyrs started to march forward. The Bogatyr was designed for speed and force, twin autocannons at the front capable of tearing up armor and infantry combined with side-mounted rocket racks and a mounted pair of missiles for anti-air. It wasn’t as armored as the Riesig though, it just had speed as it’s armor. The PAC had ignored history’s repeated lessons on why that was such a poor decision.

 

Campbell watched as troopers moved into position at the barrier to the front of the yard. “Missile teams stand ready, emplacements make those shots count.”

 

O’Neill poked his head up. “You know, I can’t shake the feeling I’ve seen this movie before.”

 

Carter shrugged. “Well it’s only walking tanks about to overrun a small and undermanned position sir, I’m sure it’s completely coincidental to whatever you’re thinking of.” All Campbell could do was remind himself that no, they’re talking about episode five. Episode eight was still two decades away for them.

 

The Bogatyrs kept rushing before the APCs and infantry, their wide feet keeping them steady on the shifting sands. Several T-32s broke to the right of the PAC formation, speeding for the armor on the flank. The Tigers at the front started firing, massive guns booming with the power to deafen and shells sailing through the air. Campbell knew their odds were better, the A-8 could put out a good ten more shells a minute compared to the T-32 thanks to their use of a loader. To save weight, the PAC assault guns needed an autoloader system. It had cost them dearly in Verdun, it would cost them here.

 

A shell struck one of the walkers on the main body, the inertia of the walker fighting with the shell striking against the armor. The walker pressed for speed again, but the tanks had a weakened target now. Several more shells went flying at it, until another slammed into the left-side rocket rack. The wounded walker slowed, but the rest kept surging. That was when the emplacements opened up, two railgun turrets firing at the walkers. One round missed, but the other struck through the “waist” of one of the walkers, sending it toppling down into the sand front-forward. That was when the walkers opened up with their autocannons, peppering the storage yard with shells.

 

Campbell bellowed out, “Rockets away!”

 

Seven remaining rocket teams fired, doing their best to guide their ammo to target. One of the troopers was shot, and wounded he rolled left with his weapon still guiding the ordinance. The rockets went spiraling away from their intended target, slamming into the sand as the trooper was hauled back and his weapon retrieved by another. One of the rocket volleys just gave out, landing several dozen yards before the target and proving that quality control isn’t always. The remaining three slammed into their target walkers, throwing up a cloud in front of them. One of the walkers was taken out at the leg, limping feebly out of the way as the remaining three sped on. The Tigers managed to take out a third, shells striking home until the walker toppled over without any front armor.

 

“C’mon, just two more,” O’Neill whispered.

 

The two walkers launched their rockets, the blasts forcing EU troopers out of position at five hundred meters. Men were thrown like dolls by a child with a tantrum. One of the tanks stopped firing for a moment, and when it resumed the firing was slower; the loader had been injured and the vehicle commander had to take their place. The fourth walker was pushed back, the autocannons ripped away by a lucky missile hit. The last one, just the last one…

 

The Riesigs inside the compound fired their last rockets, bombarding the final PAC walker hard. The armor on one of the legs was ripped away, and the camera mounted under the left side of the turret had been lost. The walker slowed, trying to back away through the conscripts and APCs.

 

To the left, Daniel watched as Sgt. Weber leveled a massive railgun on a box overlooking the left of the storage yard. “So, uh, why aren’t we using this against the walkers?”

 

“You’ll see in a minute,” Weber said. “Forsythe, are the mines in position?”

 

“ _All set for them,_ ” he radioed from the most likely route the tanks would take on the left. “ _We’re pulling back now, get ready._ ”

 

Weber nodded, watching as the four troopers she’d tasked with placing the mines sprinted back for the cover of the yard. Positioning herself behind the rifle, she sighted in at a plot of dirt just past the mines. “Position of the 32s?”

 

Lee looked to the 32s rushing forward. “Half a kilometer, standby.”

 

Weber became focused on the sights, waiting for the 32s to roll into her sights. She had to force out the fighting at the front of the yards, the noise over the network about walkers closing in. The first 32 came into view, then the second, both hit by EMP mines. The third swung around, dodging the roller mines that homed in on the two disabled tanks as she kept the reticle trained on the engine bloc.

 

Newton is still a bitch, because even with propellant a railgun still sends a projectile out at a speed that creates force. That force in return exerts an opposite on the source, and even with positioning it atop a crate and pressing herself up against the nearest solid object Weber still felt the anti-tank rifle try to separate her shoulder from her body. She was, however, treated to the sight of the 32 fall to the ground, a hole right in the middle of where the engine should have been. Ripping out the cartridge and loading a fresh round, Weber took out a second 32 and slung the Pilum. “Move, now!” As they ran, machine gun fire covered the section of roof they had been on, followed a second after by three explosions.

 

“Alright, they’ll drop their passengers right about there,” Campbell said, watching as the conscripts swarmed out of their APCs. “The rest pull away…There!” He saw one of the APCs remain as the rest pulled back. “That’s the one, the command vehicle. Now Amari, hit it!”

 

Pharah hit her jets speeding high before hovering in the air and angling her body downward. Activating her rockets, she shouted out, “Justice rains from above!”

 

The rockets blasted the PAC line of conscripts, screaming and sprinting rippling through the line as men were tossed back or lost limbs to the death falling on them from above. The few officers and NCOs with them herded them back, one sergeant shooting at their feet to keep them from running. The advance halted, the conscripts unable to see through the sand to even try to shoot in the direction of the enemy.

 

As it cleared, they saw a man standing before them. They stared for a moment in disbelief, watching as he tossed a poncho aside and looked out from behind a cowboy’s hat. Before they could finish processing the sight he drew and fired, eight officers and NCOs falling. One of the surviving NCOs tried to fire back, and the cowboy fell. The conscripts started to surge again but stopped at the sight. A woman, on golden wings, floating down from one of the warehouses. Floating down next to the cowboy, she swung a golden-topped staff around and planted it down on the body. With a flash, the cowboy pulled himself up and flashed a grin at the conscripts.

 

Distracted, the men didn’t notice the orange-suited woman and green-tinged ninja sprinting around their left flank. As the cowboy returned from the dead, Tracer planted her explosive charge on the PAC command vehicle. Grinning, she blinked away, and seconds later the charge blew the vehicle apart as McCree grinned at the PAC lines. The conscripts and their handlers spun around, but as they started to fire, Genji rushed them.

 

“Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!”

 

The blade lit up, and as the conscripts scattered they shouted and screamed at the sight of it becoming a great dragon. Genji tore through the officers, striking down junior lieutenants and NCOs in a fury of green fire with Tracer supporting from the side.

 

The walkers sped forward again, trying to open fire but without effect. The conscripts were running now, abandoning their positions and desperate officers trying to regain control of the situation.

 

“I’ll be damned,” Campbell whispered, watching as the conscripts fled. “It actually bloody worked. Good job Amari, that’ll be a case on me when we’re out.”

 

Pharah smiled, watching the black dots of conscripts flee as the walkers started to pull back when they realized their support was gone. “Thanks, but I’d rather take a shower instead. Sergeant, are their tanks pulling back?”

 

Weber ran back to the edge of the roof and smiled. “They’re moving back now captain, on the run.”

 

Campbell laughed. “That’ll give Vladomirovic a start.”

* * *

Vladomirovic leaned forward, confused as he watched the sight of his conscripts pulling back. “Who ordered that retreat?”

 

Chan shook her head. “No one sir, I can’t raise the captain leading the assault. I’ll try to contact one of the walkers.” There was a pause, and Chan’s face suddenly screwed up in confusion. “Sir, the commander of the walkers just said that their command vehicle was destroyed by a bomb and that, no, one moment sir.” Chan turned back to her console, saying something in Chinese before turning back. “He says that there was a green dragon attacking the officers and NCOs sir.”

 

Vladomirovic and Choi looked to each other and back to Chan. “Do we have a data feed?”

 

“Not yet sir,” Chan said, nervously turning back to her console. “They’re also reporting that…That a man was brought back from the dead by an angel?”

 

“What is this,” Choi whispered. “Dragons, angels? What are the EU using? What kind of weapons are these?”

 

“Weapons we can’t face right now,” Vladomirovic said. “Send the order to the detachment at their primary camp, order them to return to their APCs and fall back to the port. Have our fighters begin to cover the area against enemy air attack and load all forces onto the titans. We’re pulling back from this area for now. Major, plot a course to our fleet and then to Tehran. I want total air cover at all times, if the western forces want to down us they need to work for it.” As Chan went to work issuing orders, Vladomirovic turned to Choi. “Make sure the men are seen to, ensure they have extra rations for the next week and see that when we arrive at Tehran they receive an extended period of rest. I want them ready for any future engagements.” Choi grunted an affirmative.

 

“All forces are withdrawing to the harbor sir,” Chan said, still in shock from what she’d heard. “I just don’t believe it though.”

 

“We’ll let intelligence tell us what they think we should believe,” Vladomirovic said, leaning forward as he watched the EU supersonics appear on his radar at the extreme edge of the battle area. “Then we’ll compare it with what we know and arrive at the truth.”

 

Despite his calm demeanor, Vladomirovic knew better. “ _What are you hiding from me, Vollmer?_ ”

* * *

The troopers cheered, watching the conscripts flee from the storage yard and the commandos retreat from the camp. Gantz and Becker clapped each other on the back as Russo fired several parting shots in their direction.

 

“What a finish,” O’Neill said with a laugh. “Didn’t think I’d see anything like that here.”

 

“Don’t think anyone else would be that insane,” Campbell said with a laugh. “Durand, status at the camp?”

 

Durand smiled as he watched the APCs and remaining tanks fall back to the landing, troopers cheering and aiding the wounded. “Secured here sir, we’re gonna make sure they can’t get back anytime soon.” Looking to the entrance from the camp to the fuel tanks, he saw Brigitte sprinting to a tired Reinhardt, his back ripped open and hobbling along from his fight with the commandos. “Galahad is still alive too, even after taking some RDX to the back.”

 

Campbell nodded, giving a thumbs up to Pharah as she landed. “Very good corporal. Have your team police the area, we’ll take care of our business here.”

 

O’Neill smiled, walking over as he unloaded his final clip, every round expended. “Well, that was a fun trip. How about we never do something like that again?”

 

“Agreed sir,” Campbell said as he leaned against the nearest wall. “Aye, this was not one of our more fun operations.”

 

“I’d hate to see a bad day,” O’Neill said as Pharah walked to them. “Nice job up there. Not often you see a one-woman gunship rain down on a position.”

 

“My mother taught me well,” Pharah said with bursting pride. “I’ll put my teams to work sir, we’ll police the area and find anything of value.”

 

McCree groaned as he and Mercy came over. “Aw c’mon Pharah, can’t you give a dead man a little rest?”

 

“The sooner we can check for anything useful for our records the better,” Carter observed. “Don’t worry, all we need is just a few weapons and pieces of equipment.”

 

“Don’t be so cranky Jesse,” Mercy observed. “You aren’t happy we have victory today?”

 

“I’m not happy that I haven’t had a smoke in hours.”

 

O’Neill shrugged. “Check the PAC bodies, I saw one of them smoking earlier.”

 

Campbell shook his head. “Sir, you couldn’t have.” O’Neill looked over in confusion. “Well if we don’t have access to tobacco how do the PAC?”

 

O’Neill pointed to the southern checkpoint. “They why did I see a cigarette light up over there before we rolled out?”

 

No one answered as a fuel cell in the PAC command vehicle cooked off.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 

Gen. Hammond looked up at Campbell as he read the after-action report a week after the teams had returned. “You’re sure this is what you want acknowledged then?”

 

Campbell nodded. “My team leaders' observations are accurate with what I read in Capt. Amari’s report. They may be useful for fast commando operations, but in a conventional battle they’re frankly useless. If the situation hadn’t unfolded as it had they would have easily been overwhelmed sir. By the end they were using weapons and equipment we had to provide them from our fallen. You’ll also note what Cpl. Durand had to say about Reinhardt.”

 

“I did note that yes,” Hammond said, flipping to the section of Cpl. Durand’s report. “Impulsive, excessive, no restraint in combat situations, but how is this any different from dealing with Natsu?”

 

“Overall sir, the kids could at least make a better effort for area of effect. They could easily have driven back the conscript forces rather than just trying to take out ones and twos at a time as mentioned in Sgt. Weber’s observations of McCree.”

 

“Understandable,” Hammond said quietly. “I know you’ve probably gotten this from your own superiors, but good job out there. Hopefully this will make the PAC think twice about trying to break the cease fire again.”

 

Campbell chuckled. “Bit of an understatement sir, stopping Vladomirovic is a victory in and of itself.”

 

Gen. Hammond smiled. “Get some rest son, your people have earned it. Dismissed.”

 

“Sir.” Leaving the room, Campbell walked out into the corridor to see Pharah talking with one of the techs. “Capt. Amari, have a minute?”

 

Pharah nodded, the tech nodding and walking toward the labs. “Sure, what do you need Campbell?”

 

“Well I do owe you a drink at the minimum,” Campbell said happily. “That plan you made, breaking those conscripts is something we’ve had trouble doing these past few months.”

 

“I’m just happy you can utilize those oil fields again,” Pharah said, walking with Campbell to the mess. “Now with the PAC driven away you can hopefully get your civilians those resources again.”

 

Campbell nodded. “Aye, Christ knows it was touch and go there for a bit. We got lucky.”

 

“We had the better forces,” Pharah said firmly. “The PAC couldn’t’ break us even with their numbers, that was all there is to it.”

 

Campbell didn’t want to bring up the AARs his people had written, now was a time to enjoy the victory. “Suppose that’s true enough. What about Reinhardt, will he be back on duty?”

 

Pharah nodded. “Brigitte’s with him in the infirmary, the doctors say that after a few more weeks he’ll be fine.” A smile broke across Pharah’s face. “Knowing that man, he’ll be back strength training in two.”

 

“That man isn’t a human being, he’s literally condensed and distilled chivalry.” Shaking his head, Campbell called the elevator and looked back down the corridor. “I heard they’re putting Teal’c up for an award, capturing that commando impressed a lot of people in Defense.”

 

“Well deserved,” Pharah said. “Shame we can’t give Genji the same medal though.”

 

“I’ll write him up for a commendation at least after his efforts to drive back the conscripts,” Campbell said as the elevator doors opened. “Now we know they can be captured. Even if he never talks we can at least see what they’re feeding their people.”

 

Pharah nodded as they boarded the car. “And you think this will be enough to start the long chain of events that will bring down the PAC.”

 

Campbell shrugged. “Have to start somewhere after all.”

* * *

Reinhardt groaned as he poked at the IV in his arm, Brigitte sitting loyally at his bedside. “Really doctor, all I need is to get some work in these muscles and I’ll be fit to fight once more.”

 

Dr. Frasier glared at her clipboard as she made several notes. “Stop messing with that mister. You’re not going anywhere until I say so, you’ve got three bruised ribs and your left lung collapsed, it’s a miracle you could keep fighting at all after what happened to you.”

 

Reinhardt laughed, hard and loud despite being in the infirmary. “This is nothing _herr dokter!_ Why after the fighting outside Augsburg-”

 

“I don’t give a damn what happened in the past,” Frasier said curtly, Reinhardt looking shocked that someone had just interrupted his stories. “You’re sixty-one years old, after what I read about your medical history I think it’s a miracle that you’re even standing here right now.”

 

Reinhardt turned to Mercy, but the doctor waved him off. “I’ve told you before Reinhardt, it won’t make your healing any faster. If anything it would hurt you even more, your body would literally just ignore it’s own wounds because you think that because you aren’t in pain you’re fully healed.”

 

“And that’s your second opinion.” Dr. Frasier smiled, shaking her head as she tapped at the monitors by Reinhardt’s bedside. “Still, at least now you get bragging rights over Teal’c. He’s never taken an explosion to the back and walked away in as good a shape as you are right now.”

 

Reinhardt grunted as Dr. Frasier walked out of the room, Brigitte patting her godfather’s arm. “It’s probably for the best at any rate, your armor will take some time to repair to battle-ready condition. Winston’s trying to contact some of the surviving crusaders, but if that doesn’t work we’ll have to mill the pieces ourselves to put it back together.”

 

“Just as well,” Reinhardt groaned. “This was not the battle to put us in Brigitte. Hopefully the next one will allow us to fight properly.”

 

Brigitte nodded, but a small part of her brain wondered if there really was going to be a next time. Reinhardt launching into a story of past glory didn’t help quiet it. The glare from Cpl. Kavanaugh from two beds over was just the garnish on the plate.

* * *

Vladomirovic walked perfectly into the office, every inch the officer in his pressed and tailored garrison uniform. “ _Tovarisch komandir_.”

 

“Sit, Yuri Ivanovich,” Marshal Petrov said, motioning to the soft chairs before his crowded desk. It was simple though, compared to the awards and memories crowding the offices of other PAC marshals and political leaders. “So, your mission was a success?”

 

“I’m not sure I would term it as such sir,” Vladomirovic said quietly. “My forces were within a hair’s breadth of seizing the facility.”

 

Petrov waved off the statement. “We still have our derricks in the South China Sea, coupled with the reserves we’ve managed to tap in Mongolia we will have enough fossil fuel for another five decades until our fusion plants are fully functional. The council was quite impressed that you managed to move your commandos into the EU camp.”

 

“I’ve commended their leaders for their actions during that assault.”

 

Petrov nodded, reading over several reports on his personal console. “Tell me comrade, your thoughts on the differences between the intelligence received and what you encountered on the field?”

 

“The first attempts were clearly western psyops,” Vladomirovic said firmly. “My only presumption is that these armors are being tested in active field conditions. The variety is simply to see which models work for the situation at hand. Truthfully the most effective was the one capable of flight. My commandos noted that the larger model in the main camp was practically useless except at destroying the western equipment.”

 

Petrov nodded, tapping at his console and turning it to Vladomirovic. “And this?”

 

Vladomirovic swallowed nervously. NetBat footage of the dragon the men spoke of, roaring as it emerged from the blade of a soldier in a sleek, green-lit battlesuit. “Surely a clever play at psychological operations commander, unless a platoon of such systems were deployed it would easily be demolished in direct combat.”

 

Petrov nodded, tapping again. “And this?”

 

The image of the angel resurrecting the cowboy. That damned picture of the angel coming down from on high and creating a blinding light that brought the cowboy back from the dead. Why was there even a cowboy in the first place?

 

“I…I cannot answer commander,” Vladomirovic said, his body straightening as he spoke. “This image is stage play, it must be. The rounds did not connect, it was done to terrorize our conscripts.”

 

“I would normally agree, but the presence of these systems presents us with a dangerous reality.” Petrov turned the monitor back to him and leaned back in his chair. “Comrade, we are faced with a European Union suddenly possessed of technologies that we cannot build ourselves. Were it up to me I would have had this area bombed to prevent these armors from being utilized to their full ability.”

 

Vladomirovic relaxed, at least a little. To the casual observer he was still stiff as a post. “The cease fire will hold?”

 

“The diplomatic committee has assured us that the European parliament knows nothing of what happened.” Tapping his desk and staring at the image, Petrov let out a tired breath and shook his head. “This bodes ill, Yuri Ivanovich. Ignoring the larger armor and the cowboy.” Petrov’s face twisted at the phrase leaving his mouth before he pressed on. “These three are where we must focus our efforts of replication.”

 

Vladomirovic nodded. “What are my orders marshal?”

 

“For now, rest.” Petrov rose and went to pat Vladomirovic on the shoulder. “You’ve done well, Yuri Ivanovich. We have more intelligence now, and at least this is more reasonable than trying to explain away flying swords and super-strong maids.”

 

Vladomirovic had to suppress exclaiming that none of this was reasonable anymore.


End file.
